


The Sum of Our Parts

by Unquiet_Words



Series: Requested Works [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, Get together fic, Light Angst, Multi, Okay I'll stop now, Pining, Polyamorous? More like 'Polystupidity', Polyamory, Polytics, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-12-17 04:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unquiet_Words/pseuds/Unquiet_Words
Summary: I have no idea how to even tag all the ships tbh.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [literallysinning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallysinning/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless you for both giving me this to work with and for being so patient with me while I did. Enjoy!

From the amount of time he spent at the few tea shops dotted around Konoha’s restaurant district, one would think Tobirama didn’t have any knowledge of the tea making arts. One would be wrong, of course; a single look into his admittedly superfluous collection of teas and various related utensils would give the correct assumption - that he did indeed know a bit more than the average individual about the proper brewing methods and things of that ilk.

And yet he’d commandeered the same table in this very tea shop at least four times that week alone, glowering at anyone who thought it wise to stare too long at him. The civilian owners had at least calmed a bit about his presence, though the civilian customers usually took one look at him through the window and continued on down the street instead of spending their leisure time around a clearly frustrated shinobi.

Sometimes it was easy to forget how small some civilians felt around soldiers like him. Not that it mattered much at the moment, his fingertips rapping against the wood tabletop, his tea cold and forgotten along with the complimentary wagashi next to it.

This was supposed to be the single hour of his day that he could relax, not spent on research or work or training or listening to idiots argue over issues he could solve in his sleep. Instead it was more and more becoming the most stressful hour of his day, his mind too wired over drawing blanks on his own personal issues to pause long enough to have this breather.

When tea wasn’t even able to help him relax, he knew he had a problem. It was just a shame he had no idea how to go about fixing it.

“Escaping the office so soon is unlike you, Tobirama-san.”

“Mito-san.” His hand dropped to his lap the moment he heard her voice, back straightening from his slouch onto the table. The surprise didn’t at all go unnoticed, one single and elegant eyebrow raising at him as she stood not but a few feet away. All he could do his clear his throat, gaze flickering away; he’d been caught distracted and inattentive before, of course he had, but it never failed to make his cheeks flush a rather unsightly shade of red. “This isn’t any place I’d expect you to visit.”

“Well. It’s certainly not my first choice.” Her nose wrinkled ever so slightly at the cushion across from him but she still knelt down, giving a flick of her wrist to summon one of the workers to take her order. “But my dearest husband decided to try to make my coffee for me this morning, and now I have no way to brew at home. One makes due with what one must.”

Tobirama didn’t bother trying to not roll his eyes, easily picturing the blubbering mess his brother would have been over what was surely a disaster. Sure, Hashirama might not be the complete idiot many thought him to be, but he was helpless when it came to the newer technologies. Not even a simple coffee maker could survive his attempts at understanding them, it seemed. “He’ll be making up for it by purchasing you a new one, I hope?”

“Oh absolutely not - at least not on his own. There’s no telling what useless drivel he’ll try to plop down on my counters.” Her delicate sniffing made Tobirama’s lips twitch, something he quickly hid behind his tea cup. The tea was disgusting cold but it at least distracted him long enough to compose himself.

“You love him.”

“Love hardly means I’ll be ignorant to his flaws. Nor does recognizing his flaws mean I love him any less.” She placed her own tea cup down ever so gently, the sound cushioned by her pinkie meeting the table first. “Speaking of which, he has brought his dilemma of sorts to your attention, yes?”

Tobirama just managed to not curse his luck aloud, his arm jerking in response to what he’d been trying to avoid thinking about by coming here in the first place. “If you’re speaking of the one involving the Uchiha, then yes.”

Her eyes flickered to his arm and back. Mito had never been one to miss even the slightest hints, raised in a country where political power meant much more than the strength of one’s sword arm. “I assure you, Tobirama-san, my husband’s attachment to others does not offend me. As a matter of fact, I’m inclined to encourage them.”

“Encourage them,” he echoed her curiously, brushing a bit of his hair back out of his face.

“Uzushio social norms are quite different from those of the mainland. It is not uncommon for one to have multiple spouses, whether or not politics are involved in them.”

That was certainly not something he’d heard before. He leaned an elbow on the table - removing it the instant Mito’s eyes narrowed a fraction at him. She could give a whole lecture on etiquette with just one look. “Are you suggesting Anija and the Uchiha should wed each other?”

“Whether or not they wed is entirely up to them. Though I’d certainly feel better knowing my husband had someone else to keep him company - I’ve never been one to believe a single person can grant another everything they need.” Her pause must have been purposeful, knowing her. Meant to make a point, to show the significance of what she’d just said or was about to say. It certainly made Tobirama focus more on her words, waiting as she sipped her tea once more before she continued. “If one must have a large social group in order to be healthy, couldn’t the same be true for some about their intimate circle as well?”

Tobirama nodded absently, purposely avoiding Mito’s rather intense gaze. “I suppose that is one way of looking at it.”

He didn’t have to be looking directly at her to catch the flash of disappointment on her face, the sun catching her hair as she leaned back on her cushion. “Well. If my husband’s predicament has been brought to your attention, I assume he requested your aid.” Mito reached for one of her wagashi but seemed to think better of it, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly down at the sweets on her plate. Apparently they weren’t up to the standard of those she typically kept for guests at home. “Do you plan to aid him?”

“We both know Anija well enough to know how insufferable he’d be if I didn’t.” It sounded more sour than he’d meant for it to but it couldn’t be helped. No one could help how they felt, not really, and even though being bitter about it wouldn’t change a thing Tobirama couldn’t help it either.

He wished it would. That something could take away the pit in his chest, the heavy feeling that had only gotten denser from that simplest of requests his brother had made of him. But he’d learned the hard way over the years that nothing ever took it away, just dulled it to an ache for a while before it inevitably came back stronger.

“I do hope you find more success in the matter than he did.” Hand moving much faster than most civilians could catch, Mito reached out and plucked one of Tobirama’s wagashi from his plate, having apparently determined that his were better quality. “Sometimes it seems as if those two speak two entirely different languages. One wonders how they ever communicated with each other before others were around to mediate.”

“You’d be surprised, Mito-san.” One elegant eyebrow raised at his statement, Mito now a bit too busy enjoying the sweet she’d stolen to question him verbally. Tobirama cleared his throat before continuing, once again breaking their eye contact in favor of staring down at the groves someone had worked into the wooden table. “No one could ever be as obnoxiously blunt about their feelings as Hashirama, but Madara does have his own way of being very open with people.”

“I’m sure your father’s rolling over in his grave.”

Tobirama huffed in amusement as Mito’s lips twitched with her own, fiddling a bit more with his tea cup. “By now he’d be more bone than muscle or skin tissue, far past the decaying stage, so I doubt he’d be able to move at all. Still, if anyone could find a way it would be him.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right about that.” Her faster than normal blinking suggested he’d said something odd, and it took him a few seconds to realize his faux pa. Drinking disgustingly cold tea wouldn’t exactly help him save face but it hid his burning cheeks from view for at least a second or two. For such violent creatures, it made little sense to him how shinobi still held onto many of the same social customs as civilians; they were taught to slaughter on command and yet weren’t allowed to discuss the aftermath in ‘polite company’?

Such hypocrisies had never made sense to him, nor did he usually care at all about ignoring them - but he hated blundering so terribly in front of Mito. No one else seemed capable of making him feel like such a fool, though he doubted she ever meant to.

“Well, Tobirama-san, your company is always a pleasure, but I have a meeting to attend shortly.” He looked up from his tea to find her standing, Mito smoothing the imaginary wrinkles out of her kimono to make sure she looked immaculate for the road. “Though I feel I must remind you that you are more than welcome in the main house whether or not my husband is home.”

After that short but pointed lecture (or invitation to keep her company; it was always hard to tell with his sister-in-law), she swept away and out of the cafe, the fuinjutsu tags hanging from her hair flittering in the slight breeze when she opened the door.

Since Tobirama only had a little longer on his break from work anyway, he didn’t bother doddling about but for a few more minutes, poking at one or two of his wagashi out of shame from the thought of wasting food. One too many harsh winters in his youth had beaten that shame into him rather efficiently but the comfort of a more stable income had led to a bit more waste from everyone in Konoha; at least the civilian farmers knew enough about composting to outweigh a bit of the cons of such habits.

The next hour found Tobirama in his office, buried elbows deep in paperwork - contracts and missives and that damned stack of reports that kept getting circled around the tower due to no one knowing quite what department should handle incidents that involved both shinobi and civilians - though even keeping his hands busy wasn’t nearly enough to distract his mind from the shit show that was becoming his private life. It left him snippy and short tempered with everyone he came in contact with; even his poor intern scurried away from him rather quickly. The poor girl hadn’t been working under him for much longer than a few weeks at that point, and considering how loud she’d gulped when he shoved a stack of papers at her she would more than likely be requesting a transfer sooner rather than later.

That would make her the fourth. Or was it the fifth? Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose, and then had to squint at the ink smudge he left there. By now their faces all ran together in his memory and he couldn’t even be certain he’d called this one the right name yet. He should probably feel guilty about that.

As he should about the way his stomach felt when a certain burning chakra started down the hall his direction. Placing his brush down carefully so as to not smudge his paperwork, he got up and stretched a bit, not at all surprised when the door near slammed open without any warning. Ever used to Madara’s flair for dramatics, it was more expected than anything else at this point.

“Your intern is an absolute moron if she thinks I have any use for your hospital shit.” Several scrolls joined the mass already cluttering up his desk as Madara tossed the lot in his arms down, one of which rolled right off into the floor - and was promptly ignored by the riled up Uchiha. “If I get any more of your paperwork on my desk I’m going to burn it. I’ve got enough shit to do without having to be a paperboy!”

“The rest of us have interns; you could always get one to run around for you.”

Logic be damned, Madara was absolutely not having that, violently flicking a wrist at the scrolls he’d all but hurled down onto Tobirama’s desk. “The interns are going _so well_ for the lot of you, aren’t they? Pah! Better to do it myself than have my shit lost and have to redo it all.”

“Once the filing system gets optimized, as well as the different branches, I’m sure interns will be invaluable to us.” He rubbed the palm of one hand into his eye, hating how sore they already were. At this rate he’d need some sort of corrective lenses. “A decade might seem like a long time but the village is still new. Even borrowing from other previously established political systems doesn’t mean ours is perfect yet.”

“Well, ask me again then, and I might consider letting one of those whelps run about for me.” Madara rolled his eyes and huffed a bit more, though his anger disappeared the moment he looked directly at Tobirama - and was replaced with snickering. “Dear lord, Senju, did you take a nap on some wet parchment?”

“What?” Even as he asked he knew exactly what Madara meant, ducking his head as he rubbed at the ink splotch on his nose. “It’s not that bad, shut up.”

“Not that bad?”

Madara’s snickering only got worse, and it wasn’t until Tobirama caught how the palm of his hand was nearly black that he realized why.

“Never seen anyone get a black eye from _paperwork_ before.”

“Don’t you have better things to do than bother me?” There was little he could do about the ink at the moment nor about how even his ears were burning with embarrassment, but he _could_ possibly do something about the Uchiha that was mocking him for it. Hopefully. “Go loiter in someone else’s office. Anija’s, even. Go make him stop pretending to poke at his work and actually _do_ some of it.”

“Sure you don’t need a bodyguard? One of those missives might have it out for you.”

It might have been a bit childish but Tobirama didn’t pay that any mind as he chucked one of those missives right at the Uchiha’s head - and laughed when it left a nice red spot right on his cheek. Madara’s squawking only made it better, and by the time he stormed right back out of his office Tobirama had all but forgotten his sour mood from that morning.

Until he felt where Madara’s chakra was headed after he left. Right to the office he’d told him to go to. And then the conversation he’d had with Hashirama only a few days ago crashed right down on him and forced his face into his ink stained hands.

This was what he was supposed to do. Support his older brother, make him happy. Encourage him to follow his heart - especially considering that Mito wanted him to do it as well. No matter how it might tear at his own by doing so.


	2. Chapter 2

Meddling in Madara’s affairs turned out distressingly easy. Though Tobirama wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected if he were honest; Hashirama and Madara had become friends in the midst of a war, so it shouldn’t have been any sort of surprise that convincing Madara to spend more time with his best friend took little more than a hint and light push here or there.

It meant Madara was in the Senju compound far more often than he’d been over the past decade. That in turn meant Tobirama spent less and less time there, much to an increasingly peeved Mito’s displeasure. If the way her lips pursed the last time he walked right on by the main household meant anything, he was toeing dangerously close to the lecture zone at this point.

Avoiding family wasn’t wise when said family had no problem dragging him right over by an abused earlobe.

But that’s exactly what Tobirama found himself doing anyway. Avoiding his family and spending an increasing amount of time off training by himself, sweat dripping down and making his eyes sting as he dodged a clone’s strike, swiping with one of his own kunai and catching the clone right in the side. It left a puddle on the ground when it was dispelled from the injury, Tobirama left panting as he tore off his training shirt, wiping his face on the ruined material.

Normally, he would’ve called it quits over an hour ago. But normally he wasn’t trying to work his brain and body into collapsing the moment he got home, so before his muscles could give in quite yet he summoned yet another water clone and stubbornly took a defensive stance, watching and waiting for the attack he knew was coming.

Except he didn’t get a chance to deal with this clone as he had the last. It was dispelled for him by a sharp wooden spike, the water soaking into the wood and leaving it dark where it stood erect from the ground, the clone dispelled before he could make any use of it.

“I was going to use that, Anija.” He tried not to slouch too much in his exhaustion, not even glancing over at his brother as he went straight into cool down stretches.

“You’ve been out here training for _hours_! I doubt you needed to beat yourself up anymore.” A beat passed, and Hashirama giggled, apparently quite amused with himself. Tobirama didn’t even bother rolling his eyes at the idiotic humor, bending his leg backwards and up over his head as he tried to even out his breaths.

“We’re shinobi. Our bodies and minds need to be as honed as our other weapons, Anija.”

“And every kind of weapon can be honed _too much_.” Tobirama’s nose wrinkled at the logic fired back at him, his hair rustling against the grass as he bent down and hugged his legs. “You should rest! Come over and have dinner with us - I made plenty enough to share. You can even stay in the guest room tonight.”

“I suppose you won’t let me say no, will you?” His back popped as he straightened back up, stretching out his arms as he turned to his brother. “I’ll come over for dinner, but I have my own hou- what on _earth_ did you do to your hair?”

Hashirama patted at his hair self-consciously, a sheepish sort of grin making him look far too childish for his own good. “I was taking a bath but didn’t want it to get wet.”

“It looks ridiculous.” Really, the messy bun _did_ look ridiculous, stray bits of hair poking out everywhere, his bangs left out as well. It also was far too endearing for Tobirama to handle, and instead of dealing with _that_ mess of a situation he turned right around and started back for the Senju compound.

His brother didn’t wait long to run after him, pouting the whole way about how rude his little brother was - and then pouting even more when Tobirama refused to either look at or speak with him. That being said, Hashirama’s mood swings meant he was bright and chipper by the time they managed the ten minute walk back to the Senju complex, chattering away about mostly things Tobirama already knew about: some amusing misstatement at a meeting they’d both attended, some incident involving Madara in the training fields a week prior, Touka’s return from a mission. His familiarity with the topics meant he felt no guilt whatsoever in ignoring him and focusing on breathing exercises instead as they walked through the compound.

Their compound was rather small compared to some of the others, off near the northern outskirts that bordered a forest just outside the walls. Trees and wild bushes were growing on all sides of the road, vines climbing up the sides of houses and overall making the whole place look far more overgrown than their last home. It was mostly Hashirama’s doing. Something they’d discovered just about the time Hashirama started using the mokuton was that he _needed_ to use it, otherwise he was under threat of the mokuton damaging his own body.

Better to have too many plants around than risk their clan head’s life. At least with the wild berries and fruit trees around everyone benefited from his mess.

Being the person behind all the madness that crept onto everyone’s property, Hashirama’s house was most crowded by plant life. Though Mito made sure he kept the front lawn neat and tidy at the very least, the garden there was still filled to bursting with flora Tobirama had never seen outside of Hashirama’s own making. A rainbow of flowers, plants that ate insects, some bushes that attracted butterflies by the dozens; despite the creeping nature of it all, it at least didn’t cause any headaches from eyestrain while he walked the rock path up to his brother’s doorstep.

The chatter Hashirama had kept up their entire walk stopped the instant he opened his door. It was cut short by a rather exhausted sounding Mito calling out from the living room, her expression crystal clear in Tobirama’s mind from her tone alone, mouth a thin line and eyes no doubt boring into whatever stood between them and her. “I hope my dearest husband did not step foot out of our house with that ridiculous hair bun.”

Hashirama drooped so fast he nearly fell over, his feet shuffling and hands wringing as he poked his head around the corner to peek at his wife. “If I say no, will you believe me?”

“Considering my eyesight is perfectly fine…” Mito clicked her tongue at him, giving him a final stern look before brushing past to greet Tobirama, her kimono light to match the season and hair as perfect as ever – quite the stark contrast to the husband just behind her. “It has been far too long since you’ve graced our home with your presence, Tobirama-san. Though I am a bit surprised to see more of you than usual.”

It took a second for him to realize what she meant by that, though her gaze flickering down to his bare chest helped. He crossed his arms to hide a bit of his embarrassment, huffing and knowing full well it resembled his own brother’s pouting. Not that he was pouting. Tobirama never pouted.

“Go bathe and put on some fresh clothes. I believe dinner will be ready by the time you manage all that, yes?” Not even Mito could resist smiling in a bit of amusement at how Hashirama’s bun flopped about as he enthusiastically nodded his head, shaking her own fondly as she watched him shoot off towards the kitchen. “I’ll fetch the clothing for you and see if I can keep him on task this time. His rosemary is budding and all he wants to do is coo over it.”

“I thought his rosemary died off.”

“So did he.”

By the time Tobirama washed off and soaked for a good length of time, dinner was indeed ready for the lot of them. Sitting down at an actual table to eat was certainly a fresh change of pace, Tobirama being so used to picking at his meals in his lab when he wasn’t doing any especially finicky experiments. And as was sitting and enjoying it with actual company; Hashirama’s laughter booming around the room and Mito’s own quiet ones hidden behind her hand were something he’d told himself he didn’t miss since he’d moved away from the main Senju household.

He’d been lying, of course. No matter that he’d been the one to demand his own house after the first year of living in Konoha, this one still felt much more like home than his own.

It had all been just a touch too much when he’d lived here. Seeing his brother at all hours of the day, in all of his moods. When he was the loudest as he told tales everyone had already heard a dozen or so times already, his arms waving wildly as he described events that really didn’t call for such dramatics. When he was at his quietest at the wee hours of the morning, tucked into the corner of the living room with his feet stuck up under the kotatsu, a book in hand as he hummed a song that brought too many childhood memories of an older brother that raised his siblings far more than their father ever had.

Tobirama had more fled the house than anything else, telling his treacherous heart to calm itself as he started his own home. And tried his best to force his own feelings into submission.

Being there then only proved further how futile that effort had been. Not that he hadn’t know that already; it was just so easy to trick himself into denial and say he _had _gotten over everything. But Hashirama was a stubborn man, probably even moreso than the Uchiha in many ways, and he stuck to people like a burr embedded in their skin.

A rather attractive burr, whose wide grinning made Tobirama feel far too queasy for his own good.

Coming over for a visit had been a mistake.

“It’s late, I shouldn’t stay much longer.” Rude interruption aside, Tobirama really had no desire to torture himself any longer. Sitting there and pitying his familial ties with people would only make his night drag on further than it should, and his day had already been more taxing than most.

“Otouto, I already told you, you can stay in the guest room tonight! It’s been far too long since you slept over.”

“We’re not children, Anija; we don’t have _sleepovers_.”

For just a fraction of a second, his brother huffed up just like the child he’d just said he wasn’t - but then his entire face lit up instead, his body bouncing forward in excitement, sloppy bun tossing about with it. “Oh, but we _could_ have a sleepover! There’s more than one futon in the guest room, and it’s plenty big enough!”

“Anija, _no_.”

Bulling right past his protest as if he hadn’t even heard it, Hashirama was up and out of his seat, taking hold of Tobirama’s arm and dragging him behind him as he had for most of their lives. “We could stay up late and tell ghost stories - did I tell you about the one I saw last week? It was _terrifying_ \- and you could braid my hair, and I can probably fix a bit of your eye pain since I noticed you’ve been rubbing at them more lately. Oh! And then I can cook breakfast for us in the morning and we can eat it out in the back garden! I managed to get the daffodils to start blooming again, and even the jonquil are all bright and sunny - I know those are your favorite.”

Some tinkling laughter behind them told Tobirama that Mito was enjoying his torment. And as much as he’d rather have gone home and slept in the peace and quiet of his own lonely bedroom, Tobirama had ever been weak when it came to his brother’s wishes. By the end of the night he found himself wrapped up in his big brother’s arms, the idiot having completely forgone his own laid out futon in favor of crowding up Tobirama’s.

The heat was near suffocating with the living heater wrapped around him so tightly. Tobirama had to peek his head up out of the chest he was smooshed against to breathe, squirming around a bit to kick some of the covers off.

At least his brother didn’t snore nearly as horribly as he used to. Just soft sounds as his breaths tickled Tobirama’s hair, his hands bunched up in the back of Tobirama’s borrowed shirt and keeping them quite firmly stuck together.

This had been the worst idea of his month for sure. Possibly longer. He shifted his lower half as far away from his brother as possible, which was only a few inches since Hashirama had full body squided around him. A single and forlorn look was sent towards the door as Tobirama tried to settle in for the rest of the long night, finding his body really didn’t want to relax where he was – especially certain parts of him.

What he wouldn’t give for about ten minutes of alone time in the bathroom. Would certainly prevent any potential accidental embarrassments - though his brother was somewhat of an oblivious doofus when it came to such things anyway. Even an extremely lame excuse could probably throw him off the damning trail to the truth.

Mito was an entirely different story. She was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out damning evidence, and Tobirama thanked every god he could think of that she’d left the two brothers alone to have their bonding time. How he’d managed to hide it from her for this long could only be luck and his habit of swallowing everything down so hard it had little chance of even occurring to _him_ most days.

His luck would have to run dry eventually. Tobirama let his head sink back into his brother’s broad chest, trying to ignore how he’d always loved the earthy smell that clung to him. Clinging right back wouldn’t actually make him feel any better but it would at least make the night less dark in so many ways.

That night, it turned out, was the brightest he was going to have the whole week. A mission concerning extremely sensitive information had him leaving Konoha by mid-afternoon the next day, sleeping in oaks and pines as he traveled to the northern most tip of Hi no Kuni. Torturing information out of potential spies left a sour taste in his mouth, and not even counting the stars could help him sleep as it usually did.

It was Saturday morning by the time he saw Konoha’s gates once more, his armor scuffed and dirty from the road, eyes already sore despite how Hashirama had done his best to heal what damage he could the night he’d spent in his home. Resisting rubbing at them took conscious effort, Tobirama all but dragging his feet towards the tower to write down his report while it was all as fresh as necessary. His habit of jotting down notes in code helped iron out the details at least, all of the coded papers he’d written quickly burned with a small katon before he deposited his report directly onto Hashirama’s desk - and promptly used the hiraishin to transport him to his own living room where he could strip naked and be done with the outside world for at least the rest of the day.

Leaving his armor in a dingy pile wasn’t the best way to maintain it, but he couldn’t find it in him to care at that moment. Not with echoes of pained whimpers in his head. Not with flashes of his victim’s face haunting his every step towards the bathroom.

Washing the dirt and dried blood off didn’t make him clean. Soaking in a hot bath helped ease his mind in a way; water had always been his escape, the one sure way to make him feel a touch better no matter his troubles. Tobirama sank down into the tub and let his skin prune, closing his eyes and breathing in the steam like it might wash away his worries and woes.

Though trouble always had a nasty habit of seeking him out. He scrunched his face up tight as he felt a chakra signature approaching his house, doing his best to ignore it and pretend like it could be going anywhere else. Even whenever it stopped right in front of his doorway and he heard the insistent and loud banging he tried to will the man to leave him alone.

“You know I can sense you! Get your ass out here, Senju! I need to speak with you!”

So much for a peaceful and quiet day back. Tobirama lamented the loss as he climbed back out of the tub, not willing to leave the man bellowing on his porch and disturbing the whole neighborhood, grabbing a towel as he looked around for where he might have thrown his clean clothes.

After a minute of searching and not finding any, he admittedly started to panic.

Getting his ass out there would be a bit hard without any clothes to cover his bottom. And mortifying. He could already feel his face burning from something other than the steam that thickened the air. But the small waist towel was the only sort of cloth he could find in the entirety of the wet room, and it was finally dawning on him that he hadn’t even bothered to stop by his room to pick up clothing before taking a wash and soak.

Madara had lost patience and was stewing in his living room at the moment, where it would be easy enough for him to peek down the hallway and see his shame if he made a run for his bedroom. Knowing Madara’s legendary thin patience also made Tobirama concerned he might _literally_ try to drag him out of the wet room himself - something that would leave them both even more than mortified. Tobirama eyed the door while he shifted his weight, the small waist towel hanging loosely in one hand. At that point, he had little choice.

It barely covered him enough to be considered decent, but it was a step above showing Madara parts of himself that only two people had seen since he’d been out of diapers. Tobirama had been in a lot of vulnerable positions, as had most shinobi considering the life-and-death situations that plagued their lifestyle, but revealing himself in such a fashion to _Madara_ was a touch _too_ vulnerable of a situation for his liking. He tugged a bit on the towel to try to make sure it covered everything, feet leaving wet prints behind him as he left the room and peeked down the hall.

“Does it really take that long to bathe yourself, Senju?”

Tobirama will never admit to jumping when the voice came from right next to him. His head did whip around, mind chastising itself for not keeping better track of where Madara had been in his house. Once upon a time, that would have meant his untimely end. Now it just meant his equal-fold irritation and embarrassment, staring down at the intruder who’d not even bothered to _ask_ if he was allowed in his home.

Not that intruders usually asked, but to Tobirama even most _invited_ guests were intruding in his home on some level - his brother and Mito not included.

“You said you wished to speak with me?” Arms crossed tightly over his bare chest, Tobirama stared down at Madara as if he didn’t have a care in the world that he was all but naked in front of him - and that his mind had no reason to wander off about that either. There was nothing to wander towards anyway. Least of all when it involved the Uchiha standing before him.

“I needed to speak with you half an hour ago!”

Rolling his eyes, Tobirama pushed passed Madara, suppressing the shiver that tried to run down his spine as his back was turned to him. The man’s squawking was promptly ignored as he slammed his bedroom door in Madara’s face, Tobirama quickly grabbing some clothes to throw on before braving whatever bug had bitten the other’s arse.

At least Madara wasn’t too far into a conniption by the time he was clothed and somewhat ready for company, the Uchiha having stormed his kitchen and made tea (without asking, of course) to calm himself. Tobirama let it slide with little more than a single raised eyebrow since there was a cup placed out for him as well; it even had his usual amount of sugar and creamer already in the bottom, though how Madara even knew how much he took of either was a bit of a mystery.

One that could be left for later, of course. He sat down at the kotatsu opposite of Madara, watching as the other chewed over some thought that had his fingers drumming and his face scrunched in on itself.

Whatever bee had crawled itself into his bonnet must have been serious since it was keeping him quiet. Relatively so, anyway, as compared to Madara’s natural state. Tobirama didn’t bother asking however, waiting for his uninvited guest to get to the point while he enjoyed his tea, soaking in what peace he could and blocking out the underlying turmoil he could feel boiling under Madara’s skin. Being a sensor meant being far too sensitive to other's emotions, considering they were so easy to feel swirling in their chakra - or, at least, that's how it had always been for him, and it meant being around someone who felt so much and so _deeply_ was a bit exhausting at times. Not exactly what he'd been wanting out of the rest of his evening.

“Your brother is married.”

With a slow and deep breath, Tobirama placed his tea cup carefully down on the kotatsu’s table top, now more than ever not sure he had the patience to deal with whatever this was. “Yes, Anija is married. I believe you were sent an invitation to the wedding.”

“Not like I could come anyway! We were at war!”

Tobirama leaned back against the sofa at his back, giving Madara the blandest look he could muster. “What’s your actual point, Madara?”

“He’s married.” For several moments, Madara just stared at him as if he’d not just repeated the same statement as earlier. When Tobirama only stared right back, Madara huffed, leaning forward and waving one hand in the air in a wild gesture. “He has a wife, a _relationship_ with her.”

“For someone so blunt, you hate getting to the point.”

“That _is_ the point!” The hand previously waving in the air gripped his hair and tugged on it, making Madara look even more frazzled than before. “He’s _married_, and that makes it _not okay_!”

That at least told Tobirama _something_. He leaned forward with a touch of dread in his chest, hoping to catch Madara before he went off on some sort of tantrum tangent. “What, exactly, was not okay due to him being married?”

“What he did!”

Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose, blocking out the wide-eyed and worked up look on Madara’s face, begging whatever kami might be listening to grant him patience. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that. What did Anija do? Context, Madara. I need context.”

Nothing was said for a good minute between them. Tobirama let his hand drop to his lap, watching Madara twitch away as if his entire body was resisting whatever words he might be trying to force out. And he was tempted to throw his hands up and give up right then, drag himself off to bed and leave Madara to deal with whatever he’d come here to verbally work out himself.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Lamenting his own goodwill, Tobirama decided to back up the conversation, pouring them both some more tea from the pot while he worked his way there. “Can you give me a timeline? When did whatever event happened happen?”

“Yesterday. Afternoon - wait, evening. Closer to dinner.”

“And where were the both of you?”

Madara’s twitching died down a bit, one hand twisting the ends of his hair into knots as he reached over to pull his tea cup closer. “We were at my house. Hashirama wanted to make something but the woman’s allergic-”

“It’s Mito, not _the woman_.”

“Doesn’t matter, the point is she’s allergic to spearmint, and Hashirama just _had_ to make whatever shit he was making, and so he was at my house and he _did something_ and now I have no idea what to do about it!”

“Are you actually here to talk about what happened, or are you wanting to talk _around_ it?”

“_He kissed me_!”

Tobirama’s breath caught at those three simple words, his hand gripping his tea cup so tight it shook. Three words. That’s all it took, and he felt his chest collapsing in on itself from the weight of them. With a single deep breath he forced himself to relax, to swallow down whatever natural response threatened to bubble over and mentally step away from the situation. He could do this. Could be the support they both needed, as he’d always been. “Is this something you wanted?”

“In case you’ve already forgotten, I did mention that _he__’s married to that woman_.” Madara nearly hissed the last part, but it wasn’t anger that had him so worked up. That, at least, clued Tobirama into what was bothering him, his eyes dropping to stare at the table between them instead of witnessing the panic in the man’s across from him.

“Her name’s Mito, and she’s very well aware of his attraction to you.”

That, at least, ground Madara’s panicking to a halt. And if it had been any other situation his open-mouthed gaping might have been comical, jaw opening and closing as if he were a fish attempting to breathe the open, dry air. Tobirama could practically hear the gears in his mind trying to catch up with what he’d said, his face scrunching up once he’d managed to stop impersonating a fly trap and work his way around to communicating again.

“…attraction?”

It took physical effort not to whap the idiot atop his head, and why Tobirama bothered _not_ doing it he couldn’t really say. He distracted himself by fiddling with a tassel on his seat cushion, glowering down at the table as if it had done him a personal wrong. “He kissed you, Madara. I doubt much else could make it more obvious.”

“Yes, yes, I _know_ that part, but- the woman knows this? And she’s not torn off any heads yet?”

His confusion over that, at least, was a bit understandable. If Tobirama hadn’t discussed the Uzumaki’s acceptance of polyamory before with Mito he would’ve found it difficult to swallow as well; she was a fierce warrior despite her collected demeanor, and any negative attention from her would worry someone with at least average intelligence.

Luckily for the lot of them, Mito was more than happy to share.

“Mito does not mind if Hashirama shares his affections, and actively encourages it. As long as she is well informed, it is not cheating.”

Letting that information sink in, Tobirama gathered up his tea pot and set about making some fresh tea, more for a moment alone than for the need of it. Wasting anything had never really been in his nature but he poured the old tea right down the drain, setting the kettle boiling as he busied his hands in hopes of keeping his mind off of everything around him.

It didn’t work. ‘_He kissed me_,’ Madara had said, almost scandalized and yet…yet now that he knew Mito would not mind, Madara sat there in an almost uncharacteristic quiet once more, the quiet of someone deep in thought as they analyzed whatever new information they’d gathered. His eyes were flicking back and forth when Tobirama sat back down in front of him, not a twitch of muscle beyond that like Tobirama was used to with the boisterous and overly loud Uchiha.

Many forgot that Madara was as trained as the rest, just as many forgot how dangerous Hashirama was on the battlefield. It was times like this that helped remind Tobirama the man was no fool.

“They are in love, are they not?”

A question one would have reason to ask, considering the nature of Hashirama and Mito’s engagement. Arranged marriages weren’t exactly uncommon among the noble clans though the Senju were only such by practice, and though the two seemed to get along well enough in public it was expected for many of the marriages to not have strong attachments at their core.

In that regard, Mito and Hashirama had been blessed. Theirs might have been a marriage started on foundations of sand but it grew quickly and strong.

“They have much love for one another but feel that loving only one is not their way.” His eyes flickered away for a moment, willing his heart to calm itself. “I believe their hope is that you will accept Anija as your…partner of sorts, even as he remains with Mito.”

“You know an awful lot about their hopes, Tobirama.” When Tobirama’s eyes met his once more Madara leaned forward, uncrossing his arms and tapping one finger on the table. “Is this why you’ve been making excuses for us to spend time together?”

Tobirama’s breath hitched for a split second, something he desperately hoped Madara didn’t catch. “We haven’t been spending any more time than normal together - I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Confusion flashed across Madara’s face but was smothered a moment later, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly over at the Senju. “I was speaking of Hashirama and me, not of you.”

He quickly picked up his tea cup to hide his flush, trying to use the moment sipping at it earned him to think of a non-damning response. When one didn’t occur to him in time he decided to brush passed his blunder entirely, hoping the other would let him. “Partially, yes. I was aware that Anija wanted to spend more time with you and thought it wouldn’t do any harm to encourage his and your friendship along.”

“And by friendship, you mean _more_ than friendship.”

Fingers worrying at the frayed edges of his clothes, Tobirama gave a very hesitant nod. “That was his hope, yes.”

Madara let silence envelop the room after that, giving Tobirama’s shoulders a chance to detach themselves from his ears. The Uchiha spent a good hour longer just sitting in his living room, chewing over his own thoughts while Tobirama finally got the time necessary to relax after his trying day.

When Madara left, it was with little more than a courtesy nod towards his host, getting up and leaving the room a touch cooler without his burning chakra to fill it. Tobirama tried not to watch him go, tried to remind himself what his goal was - and ultimately failed, his heart sinking into his gut as he rested his face in the palm of his hands.

Doom and gloom had never suited him, but now they were determined to be his bedmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floriography:  
Jonquil - 'desire', 'love me', 'desire for affection returned'


	3. Chapter 3

Madara worked rather fast once he had his mind set on something.

With his worries about the woman set aside (Hashirama’s wife might not have been remotely close to their own level, but something about her eyes made Madara not want to test her) and any and all disgusting embarrassment over _feelings_ pushed down in favor of the thrill of exploration, he saw no reason to dawdle about when it concerned his evolving relationship with his best friend. That didn’t mean he was ready to jump into hot water right off the bat, of course; there was someone else he needed to speak with before storming the Senju compound and demanding Hashirama finish what he started.

A very important someone - his most precious person, who was sitting in the kitchen carving designs into the wooden table when he got home.

“You know,” Madara drawled, heading straight for the tea he spotted steaming away on the counter, “that’s only going to dull the kunai.”

“That’s what whetstones are for, Aniki.” Izuna continued on with his carving, uncaring of the fact that it wasn’t even _his_ table - though it really might as well have been. They shared most everything in their lives anymore.

“What are you doing anyway?” He dropped down onto the cushion next to his brother, one hand absently playing with the low ponytail laying on Izuna’s back while he peered over his shoulder at the markings he was making in the wood.

Izuna scooted a bit closer to him, stealing a sip of his tea before explaining, “Trying to get better at making curved lines. The moon rabbit was showing me one of his seals a few weeks ago - one of the trap ones, though fuck if I remember what it actually did. It’s supposed to be drawn on, but I figured it’d be harder to break if it was _in_ the structure instead of on it.”

Fuinjutsu had never really been an area of interest for him. Despite its vast uses he really only bothered with the ease of life ones that had become common knowledge after the Uzumaki woman and Tobirama had started to share some of their jutsu with the other clans. He grunted before squinting closer at the carving, stealing his tea back so he could enjoy some of it too. “Would be rather obvious unless you hid it somehow. Would filling in the carvings break the seal?”

“Probably.” Izuna placed his kunai down, leaning full bodied into his brother and letting him support his weight. “Could just set up an illusion or carve it into the structure before it was built. Hide it with the rest of the building or whatever.” With a rather content sigh Izuna dropped his head back to stare up at his brother, one hand coming up to brush the hair out of Madara’s face, the back of his fingers caressing his cheek softly. “You’re not normally out so late if you’re not training. Spending more time with the tree man?”

“Are you ever going to use either of their names?” Tree man and moon rabbit - Madara shook his head fondly at the idiot burrowing back into him, catching his hand to press his lips against it. “No. I was actually speaking with Tobirama, though our conversation did involve his brother.”

“Most everything involves tree man for you nowadays,” Izuna teased him, tugging a bit at Madara’s bangs. When his teasing didn’t illicit the normal indignant sputtering (more airs than anything else anyway) Izuna narrowed his eyes up at Madara, letting the hair slip through his fingers. “What did you two discuss, then?”

“Why Hashirama wants to spend so much time with me.” He bent down to kiss at Izuna’s forehead, wanting to distract himself, not at all certain of how his brother might take this - but knowing he had more right than anyone else to know what happened. No matter if it meant going no further with Hashirama, Izuna _deserved to know_, and he'd never forgive himself if he waited any longer to tell him. “He came over to visit earlier while you were working, and he ended up…kissing me.”

Izuna sat up just enough to frown at him, though he notably didn’t push him away. A good sign if there ever was one. But, then, Izuna had always been better at hiding his _true _reactions than the rest of their family. “Kiss you? Didn’t know he was having any marriage woes.”

“Figures that’s what you’d focus on, you horrid gossip.” Not that Izuna looked even slightly ashamed of that habit, only shrugging at the accusation. The way he always explained it gossip was an indispensable tool for a shinobi, especially one so used to working in espionage and underground information networks like Izuna did (though Madara would be the first to point out Izuna was a horrid gossip _far before_ he ever got into such work. Hard to blame the work when the habit came first). “But no, Hashirama’s marriage with the Uzumaki woman is not suffering any _woes_ \- to the best of my knowledge, anyway.”

“Which is why he’s macking on people.”

“A single kiss isn’t _macking_ on someone!” Madara shoved Izuna right back into his chest, trying to tell himself his cheeks weren’t heating up. “I didn’t even kiss _back_!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Izuna’s body language didn’t change a single bit but the barest of an undertone could be heard in his words - something one would have to truly know him to catch - and it promised _pain_. “So you didn’t want to be kissed then?”

“No reason to go after him, otouto.” That was something he’d have to be firm about. Even if Hashirama was far stronger than he was, and _leagues_ ahead of everyone else, that didn’t make him invulnerable - and Izuna’s attacks rarely ever involved him facing someone on an equal playing field anyway. “It’s not like he pinned me down and forced me to lock lips with him.”

Izuna cocked his head in that infuriating manner he always did whenever he caught something he shouldn’t have, eyes narrowing a fraction as he considered his brother. “You didn’t kiss back-” he waited for Madara to give a reluctant nod “-but you’re avoiding my question on whether you _wanted_ to be kissed.”

This was the part he was worried about. Subconsciously he pulled Izuna even closer, eyes flickering away to stare off at a random yellowed spot on his wall. Probably from the horrid disaster last Christmas when they'd tried making pudding. “It wasn’t exactly something I would call…unpleasant…”

“Aniki, are you _attracted_ to him?”

“Have you ever even _seen_ him?” His tone was probably a touch too defensive but Madara felt he had a bit of a right to be concerning this. He might not have given any _serious_ consideration to being with Hashirama _in that way_ before just a few hours ago (fleeting thoughts about him in the shower did. not. count.) but it hadn’t made him _blind_.

That earned him an exaggerated eye roll, Izuna’s whole head moving with it against his chest. “Yes, Aniki, I’ve _seen_ him. But knowing someone is a hunk of beefcake doesn’t mean one’s _attracted_ to them.”

“_Hunk of beefcake_?”

“Stop avoiding the question, Aniki.”

“I’m not avoiding- you called him a _beefcake_!” His rather understandable horror at the term earned him little more than a pinch to his side. Madara glowered down at the brat practically in his lap, sighing after he realized he wasn’t getting an explanation for it - and that he really was going to have to come clean.

“Otouto, you know I love you. With all that I am.” He paused as Izuna gave a small nod, burying his face into the top of his brother’s head. “But I will admit that I do feel…some sort of attraction to Hashirama.”

“’Some sort of attraction.’ You don’t usually hate being blunt, Nii-san.”

“Most issues aren’t so sensitive!” He didn’t think he could pull Izuna any closer but he tried, not at all liking how fast his own heart was beating. Thinking over it on the way home hadn’t really made it feel _real_ \- not like it did then, with his first and only love curled back into his chest.

How would he even admit that he might want to pursue a relationship with his best friend as well?

“Nii-san, you know you’re awful at hiding things.” Ignoring his sputtering, Izuna pulled away to meet his eyes, one hand resting on Madara’s cheek to keep him from turning away. “You’re attracted to him. There’s no changing that, and I’m not suggesting I _would_ change it if I could. Now, be honest.” Izuna’s thumb ran nonsensical patterns on his cheek, helping Madara keep calm in an otherwise terrifying moment. “Do you want to be with him?”

“Not if it means losing you.” He meant it. Absolutely meant it. He covered Izuna’s hand with his own, turning to kiss the palm that was resting against his cheek. Nothing in this world would ever be worth losing his brother over, losing what they’d built together - decades of sibling love, years of something far deeper. Anything and everything Madara could give up if Izuna truly wanted him to, and any potential futures with Hashirama at his side could be lost if only it meant Izuna would stay there instead.

Izuna snorted softly, in the fond sort of way he only did when his older brother was involved, eyes softening as he tugged Madara down just far enough to brush their lips together. “I wasn’t suggesting you’d lose me either way.” With a soft press of their lips, Izuna made that promise, pulling back and tucking some of Madara’s hair back behind his ear. “Weren’t you just saying how the Uzumaki woman didn’t care if her husband was with you?”

“You’re not the Uzumaki woman.” He knew full well Izuna had a jealous streak in him; the sly looks and broken chairs underneath potential brides (set up by the council members, always without his permission) had hardly gone unnoticed. But instead of responding to that Izuna went right back to resting against his chest, fitting into his arms in a way that made Madara’s heart swell. As if it was right where he belonged, next to his heart and where he could best keep him close and safe.

“Do you think he’d mind fucking me too?”

“_Wha- who__’s fucking- no one’s fucking anyone, no fucking here, what are you on about_?”

“No one?” Izuna spoke up over Madara’s sputtering, considering him for a moment before giving a rather pitiful pout. “Does that mean Nii-san’s not going to fuck me anymore?”

Madara forced himself to take a deep breath, doing his best to keep his mind clean and away from the gutter where it so desperately wanted to be. Especially considering it would be difficult to hide if his mind went there considering Izuna was sitting in a prime position to _feel _it if it did.

“This is a serious topic, Izuna. Not one to be joked about.”

“I wasn’t joking.” Izuna paused, then corrected himself, “About the first question, anyway. Do you think he’d mind if I joined in?”

“Not everything’s about sex!”

“I didn’t say it was - not for you, anyway.” With a shrug Izuna settled against his chest some more, playing with a bit of the hair falling over Madara’s shoulder. “You know it’s hard for me to feel those sorts of _feelings_ for people, but the man’s all muscle. I’d even let him cuddle me if he’d be willing to hold me down and raw me.”

“Do you have a single bone in your body that knows what shame is?”

“No, not really.” With a rather cheeky grin, Izuna added, “Though I certainly have a bone you might be interested in.”

Madara swatted the back of his brother’s head for that idiocy and was tempted to do so again when he started snickering. Instead he just grumbled against the top of his hair, wondering what he might have done in a past life to have to deal with such imbeciles in this one.

Something truly horrible, more than likely. Nothing else could have drug his karma so low in the dirt to deal with Izuna _and_ Hashirama all at once.

But along that train of thought… “Are you _really_ okay with it? All jokes and teasing aside, truly, would you be alright with Hashirama and I being…together?”

“All jokes and teasing aside, yes. If being with him would make you happy, I see no reason to keep you two apart.” Izuna sat up enough to press another soft kiss to Madara’s lips, lingering a bit just to enjoy the feeling of being close to him. “Though I honestly wasn’t joking about joining in either. He’s attractive, and having another person around would give you a break when you needed it.”

He didn’t bother taking offense to that. Years of experience had made him quite aware that Izuna had far more of a sex drive than himself. It had left him feeling guilty at times whenever he was often the one saying no, no matter that there was nothing to feel guilty over. If Hashirama was willing and able to keep up with Izuna then Madara had no issues with them being together too. Though…

“You realize Hashirama probably won’t be after just sex, right?”

“I’m aware of that. Said I’d put up with cuddling, didn’t I?” Before Madara could respond to that Izuna kissed him again, then put a finger against his lips to prevent him from talking. “And yes, I’m aware that simply _cuddling_ wasn’t what you were talking about. Though it’s hardly worth talking through this when he isn’t even here. For all we know he might not be interested in me at all. In which case,” Izuna dropped his head right back down, snuggling up to his brother. “In which case, you can be with him _if_ you promise to sleep next to me every night I’m in Konoha. Bed gets cold when you’re not there.”

“Deal.” Wasn’t anything Madara would be against anyway. He settled in to cuddle his little brother for a good bit, in no real hurry to hunt Hashirama down and assure him of anything. Let the idiot stew in fear or whatever he might be feeling. Serves him right for confusing Madara so much that early in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

It was with both reluctant joy and shameful regret that Tobirama watched his brother’s relationship with Madara bloom into something far beyond friendship. Their evenings together became more and more frequent, the looks they shared fonder in nature, some nights seeing Madara leave the Senju compound a little too short of breath and red in the faced to mean anything other than the destruction of any hopes for Tobirama’s own happiness.

He and his brother had fallen in love with the same person, and as always Hashirama had shown too bright to ever allow Tobirama to have a chance to be seen.

Tobirama shook his head at the thought, seated in front of a mountain of paperwork that wasn’t getting done any faster with his mind wandering. And it was a dangerous place to wander anyway, off to lay blame at someone else's feet. Hashirama wasn’t at fault for having such a pull on people, like gravity itself drawing them in and keeping them near. Nor was it his fault that Madara had fallen for him instead.

Not like Tobirama and him had ever spent much time together to begin with.

He placed his brush down with care, forcing himself to get up and away from his desk. A break. That’s what he needed. Some fresh air and perhaps a nice cup of tea to clear his head; then he could get back to burying his emotions and burning them like they’d never existed.

Years of practice usually made it easy. He was losing his touch.

The sun was a bit too harsh for his liking, threatening to irritate his skin almost the second he left the tower. With a scowl out at the brighter parts of the street Tobirama stepped off to the side and stuck to the shadows, having to deal with traffic coming in and out of all the shops because of it once he reached the shopping district. Without any real thought to where he might be headed Tobirama meandered about the streets of his village, stopping here and there whenever someone wished to chat with him, making sure to be passably cordial even if he'd rather be elsewhere. He had never been the friendliest face amongst those that had founded the village but over time most everyone at least knew he was polite to a point.

It was the children that would run up to him that had his heart swelling with pride. After the playgrounds had been built he’d personally made sure all of the Senju children got to spend some time there, spending what little spare time he could there himself to alleviate the worries of their parents, meaning that most of the other small ones in the other clans know him by face and name. One such small Yamanaka girl grabbed at his sleeve to drag him about the market for a few minutes much to the exasperation of her parents, whom Tobirama reassured multiple times that he didn’t mind the child’s attention.

The carefree nature of children always found a way to soothe most any of Tobirama’s woes, at least for a time. It put his heart at ease enough to no longer feel like it was in his gut, letting him feel lighter than he had in weeks. Just that bit of difference made it almost feel like he was floating, following whatever path he hadn’t before, twisting in and out of busy streets, wandering through the Shimura compound and then past the Hyuuga.

Konoha had once only consisted of a few houses dotted along a single road. Now he could walk at a civilian’s pace for over half an hour and not see even a tenth of it, and he spent that half hour firmly out of his own head so he could just _enjoy_ himself.

That enjoyment caused the newest in a long list of personal downfalls. Without keeping tabs on his environment like he normally would he found himself walking the perimeter of one of Konoha’s many parks, watching as the trees overhead rustled and danced in the wind. He didn’t feel the two chakra signatures he was coming up on until he was far too close to them - though, perhaps it was the familiar nature of them that hadn’t alerted him in the first place.

Hashirama’s laughter was what slapped him in the face and made him notice the exact two men he was trying his hardest not to think about. Both sitting under a tree together, Hashirama half in the sun while Madara stuck firmly to the shade behind him. Neither seemed to take much notice of the world, stuck in their own personal bubble of happiness, laughing and interacting in that way that made Tobirama want to be _anywhere else_.

“They let you in on their little secret?”

Tobirama whipped around, chiding himself on letting _someone else_ sneak up on him, tempted to get snippy with the damned Uchiha. But Izuna’s question caused him pause, his bangs catching in the wind and obscuring his vision as he frowned over at his uninvited company.

“Secret?” He looked back over at the two older brothers, watching Hashirama try to wriggle closer to Madara without actually sitting up to do so. “Are you meaning their closer-than-brotherly relationship?”

“Yeah, that.” Izuna plopped down and promptly drug Tobirama with him, ignoring the Senju’s hushed protests over it. “So, how does it feel to know we would’ve almost been in-laws?”

“I think every kami that comes to mind every day that Anija married Mito-sama.”

“Ouch.” With a rather bored frown Izuna turned his head back to watch their brothers, who still hadn’t seemed to notice either of them across the way. “Don’t have to tell me how you really feel. Could have lied or something.”

“Why do you even ask?” They both knew which question he was referring to. Izuna’s teasing and joking was nothing to question after all; over the years they might not have become the best of friends, but they spent enough amicable time together to understand one another.

Izuna only shrugged at him, leaving Tobirama to glower for a minute before letting the question go. Sometimes the Uchiha was just like that. Would leave people hanging on whatever he had his mind on, rather set on keeping his secrets and information all to himself.

It had been somewhat of a surprise to find out where Izuna’s real strength laid. Where Madara had brute force and skill, Izuna had plenty as well - but he had a web of information so vast Tobirama suspected it stretched out much further than just Hi no Kuni. For Konoha it had become an immeasurable resource, one that Izuna guarded far closer than even he let on, something that Tobirama was sure had already caused several deaths just to keep its secrets. It made sense for Izuna, then, as a master of spies, to ask more than he would ever answer himself.

The silence between them wasn’t exactly unwelcome anyway. Izuna’s presence was a bit of a distraction from where his mind had been for weeks, down in a dour mood seasoned with self-pity and all the whys he could ever ask himself, but the quiet of the park wasn’t too awful once he managed to tear his gaze away from where their brothers were having their picnic.

Here, in this corner of Konoha, it was easy to forget there had ever been war between them. All the generations upon generations of needless slaughtering of each other’s kin, family grave sites and tombs filled to the brim before leveled to the ground by more of the endless warring, funeral pyres for the others that's stench had reached even further than the scattered ashes. But here- here, there was nothing but the breeze blowing past, the songbirds crying up above in the treetops, distant sounds of carefree children at play, grass waving as the time lulled them by in as little of a rush as it pleased.

At least here, Tobirama could pretend like he didn’t have any woes. No endless mountains of paperwork waiting to drown him in his office. No wounded heart broken from what could have never been. No students quickly outgrowing him, soon to be sent off on their own team and leaving him once again wondering if they’d ever bother to visit.

“It’s the way you look at him.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d been looking at their brothers again. Tobirama tried not to look too embarrassed about that, only tilting his head towards Izuna and to frown at him. “The way I look at who, exactly?”

Izuna had this way of looking at someone whenever he was studying them. With his face quiet, eyes sharper than normal, his whole body still like if he moved it might affect his analysis. Tobirama hated it when the man studied him that way - it was the same way he studied his own experiments in his lab, like he was figuring out how to poke and prod them into doing what he wanted, reacting the way he liked.

Tobirama very much preferred to be the researcher and not the subject.

“If you don’t stop giving me that look, I’m leaving.”

“You’re the one who was here first.” Izuna shrugged but notably stopped staring, reaching down to pick at the grass between them. “And, to answer your question, both of them.”

“Both of them?” Tobirama kept his breathing even, tone as neutral as he could manage. But this time, Izuna didn’t respond. The Uchiha just got up instead, brushing the dirt and grass off his rear before hopping up in the tree above.

“Don’t stare at them too long. You might go blind. Or get mentally scarred for life.” It was called from above and left at that, his company going as fast and as suddenly as he’d appeared.

At least part of his final statement was likely to be true. Hashirama had thrown himself across Madara’s lap at some point, and as much as Madara was audibly complaining about it he wasn’t even attempting to push the man off. Just watching it made Tobirama ache, and since Izuna disappeared off into the treetops he was alone in his suffering once more.

Not that Izuna had probably been suffering.

Tobirama didn’t stay any longer to wallow or tear himself apart. He’d gone to the park to _escape_ them not watch as they cuddled with each other, something he had really no desire to watch anywhere at any time at all.

Retiring to his house it was, then. He didn’t even bother sticking to the streets to get there, jumping straight to the rooftops the moment he could and taking a straight line to the Senju compound. The moment he was inside he locked up his house, taking a few minutes to just sit there in the entry room and breathe.

He could do this. He could keep being the good little brother that he’d been raised to be, to do everything in his power to love and support Hashirama in everything that he did, every way that he could. Even if it hurt so horribly that it felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

Now really wasn’t the time for company.

Tobirama wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, keeping a metaphorical eye on the chakra headed his way. As much as he loved his sister-in-law he desperately hoped she wasn’t headed to his home - though there was little chance she’d be headed anywhere else considering the placement of his home in the compound, so far out of the way and the opposite direction of the rest of the village. But he could _hope_, and he did. He didn’t want anyone to see him when he could barely hold it together, least of all the woman who so often saw right through whatever facade anyone was trying to keep up around her.

It came as really no surprise at all whenever she came right up to his front door. He still didn’t get up from the floor until after she knocked, hoping up until the very end that he might catch some sort of break - and was very much tempted to leave her outside and not answer the door at all. Which, ultimately, would have been an unwise decision. Mito might not be a sensory type but someone would have to be either a civilian or an utterly useless shinobi not to be able to sense him through a door. He got up with much reluctance, then, wiping at his eyes again before cracking the door open for her, turning away as he gestured for her to come inside.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting anything, Tobirama-san. You know I would normally speak to you well in advance of any visitation.”

He waved that off, leading her into the kitchen without turning to face her. Tea would be good - for him and for the simple fact that it was expected of a host to give _something_ to their guest. He did have that one mint variety that Mito seemed to enjoy, only a little perhaps but it should be enough for two people to indulge in for a short while.

When they reached the kitchen he went immediately to the cabinets, searching about for the proper tea set Mito had purchased for him the year before. Some snacks would probably be required as well but his cabinets failed him there, so he settled for only putting the kettle on and waiting for the water to boil. He'd gone through the shopping district earlier and hadn't even thought to stop in for appropriate guest snacks, but then he rarely received any anyway.

There was little to be seen outside his kitchen window besides a few trees, but he occupied himself with staring out of it all the same. Without the wind to disturb the trees they just stood still, the only movement catching his eye being the small flock of birds that had perched in one of the lower hanging branches. Really it wasn’t large enough to even be called a flock but Tobirama had no better name for it, so it’s the word he used for them, and he watched as several hopped between the branches no doubt chattering at one another.

“Is there something on your mind, Tobirama-san?”

“Hmm?” Tobirama checked the kettle and found it still wasn’t boiling, going right back to staring out the window afterward, watching the small flock of what must have been sparrows interact with one another. “No, nothing, Mito-san.”

“Is that so?” He heard her get up from the table, her yukata rustling against the table as she moved near him. “If this is a bad time for me to visit, please let me know. I will not be upset if you turn me away.”

“Your company is no bother at all.” He stepped away from her, going to the cupboard to pull out the tea strainer. Sometimes he forgot the tea pot she’d given him didn’t have one built in like he was used to. That clearly meant he didn’t use it enough; with a small bit of guilt, he swore he’d put that tea set to proper use, even if it meant having company over more often.

“No bother? Even in the slightest?”

He stepped around her when he heard the kettle start trying to whistle, putting an end to that obnoxious sound before it could begin. “Absolutely none at all. I don’t know why you’d think that, Mito-san.”

“Because you haven’t so much as looked at me since I arrived.”

Tobirama froze, kettle in hand, halfway to the table. Cursed his own idiocy since he’d _just_ reminded himself of how well Mito read everyone around her, especially those she’d taken the time to know. Of course she would see through him. Of course he’d misstep and not be able to act normal. Not even forcing himself to think about anything and everything _but_ what had been bothering him could keep him from messing up around her.

What was it about Mito that always turned him into a blundering idiot?

“Forgive me, Mito-san.” Tobirama took a deep breath and continued making their tea, seeing no use in not being a good host despite already failing his other goal. “I’ve just…had a lot on my mind lately.”

“I’ve heard speaking on one’s troubles can often clear one’s mind. Let them see paths that they’d previously never considered.” A hand found his own where it was still gripped around the kettle. Tobirama looked up and into Mito’s eyes, finding them as endless as the seas in which she came from, so vast he couldn't fathom their end. “Don’t ever be afraid to speak what’s on your mind with me, Tobirama-san. There is no reason to keep your troubles and stresses to yourself. Speaking them often gives them less power over us, does it not?”

“In ways, yes,” he agreed, his voice quiet as he forced himself to break eye contact. _Breathe_, he reminded himself. _Breathe and don__’t think about it_. He set the kettle down after filling the tea pot, motioning for Mito to join him at the table while the tea steeped.

Speaking what was on his mind was far from what he wanted to do. Especially with Mito. But she had caught wind of something bothering him, and once she had a scent she would follow it to its root no matter if one wanted her to or not. There was little he could do beyond give her enough to satisfy her curiosity - and somehow find a way to give her nothing at all in the process.

In many, many ways, war had been so much easier than talking to his own sister-in-law.

“Some changes in routine feel more natural than others,” he started as carefully as he could, placing their tea cups in their proper places on the coasters set out on the table. Floral ones, gifts from his brother, things he only ever used when Mito was over lest she lecture him over the water rings stained into the wood. “I am having difficulties accepting some that…go against my own desires.”

“What you wanted and what the world gave differ, yes?”

“Yes.” He lifted the lid on the tea, knowing it wasn’t ready but trying not to have to meet her eyes again. There was only so many times he could drown before his breath never came back. “There is little to be done over the circumstances beyond letting them run their course, no matter how permanent they might be.”

“They upset you.” His eyes flickered up to meet hers for a moment, Mito’s sharp and steady on his face even when he looked away once more. “We have known each other for years. Not our entire lives, but I still have not seen you so upset before. These ‘changes in routine’ have had quite the impact on you.”

“I have never dealt with change as well as Anija.” It was the truth, at least. His brother had always been more willing to accept that the world was different than he’d expected (though he often went and found ways to change it). Despite how his own belief system relied heavily on logic Tobirama himself had always resisted change in his life and the world around him, stubborn and more willing to dig his feet in than anything else.

“So strange that you are water and he is earth, then.” He looked back up at her musing, only to pick the pot up to fill their cups when she pointedly flickered her gaze towards it. “Normally it is water that flows so easily wherever it is directed.”

“Anija has always fought to be the exception to every rule.”

Mito laughed as she picked up her cup, lifting it to her lips and holding it there for a moment, smelling the tea before tasting it. Her eyes softened once she did though she made no comment on the flavor, setting the cup down silently as she tried to meet his eyes once more.

“What change has bothered you, Tobirama-san? Is it my husband’s closeness to his friend, or something else that has soured your mood?”

He grimaced, looking down at his own tea, wishing he could deny the guess - but knowing he couldn’t. Mito already _knew_ she was right about her assumption. The only reason she gave a second option was to be polite, something that even death couldn’t keep her from being.

Sometimes, he loathed how well she could see through everything. Mainly when she was seeing through him.

“I will admit that I hadn’t expected them to progress so quickly.” He really hadn’t. That much wasn’t a lie. Agreeing to help push them along hadn’t meant that he’d expected it to work at all; if anything, he’d expected the Uchiha to take a few years to get comfortable with the idea. Madara had a tendency to run from anything good for him: Hashirama’s friendship, the idea of peace, anyone remotely a good influence on his life, etc etc. That the Uchiha had jumped so readily into it… Sure, they’d talked in person over it, and he’d seen Madara’s reaction to the news, but it hadn’t truly sunk in until after he’d seen them together.

“I suppose it could be taken as rather a shock, yes.” Mito tapped a fingernail against the side of her cup, her face and chakra unreadable despite Tobirama’s skill in reading both. “Though I must admit, I don’t see their closeness as anything to lament over.”

“’Lamenting’ isn’t the word I’d use.” Tobirama frowned despite his best efforts to keep his expression schooled, hoping to not give Mito the wrong idea. Or, rather, the _right_ one. “I do not see their developing _relationship_ as anything negative. Simply… I did not expect it to go so far so quickly. That is all.”

Mito really didn’t seem to be willing to bite that explanation. The Uzumaki had this way of giving an entire stern lecture through her eyes alone, and Tobirama felt thoroughly chastised after just a few seconds under that gaze. Whoever thought power had to be loud and flashy had never met this woman - though she’d be quick to show anyone otherwise if they believed she didn’t have physical power as well.

“I do hope you realize there is nothing to lament over, Tobirama-san." Her nails tapped against her tea cup once more, the sound ringing in the otherwise quiet of the kitchen. "A well cultivated garden does not overflow from the addition of one single flower. Instead it flourishes, and becomes all the more welcoming to another. One puts nutrients in the ground that another would feed off of. None of them would thrive on their own.”

Tobirama couldn’t help but smile softly at that odd analogy, not really certain what she was getting at despite the seriousness she gave the words. “I believe being around Anija is affecting you, Mito-san. You never used to speak of gardens in such a fashion.”

“Well. My dearest husband is rather influential and touches many lives in wondrous ways.” She gave him a pointed look that had him shifting in his seat, scratching at the grain on the table before he could help himself. “He is oblivious to much in this world, floats a touch too high in his dreams, but he is a man that no one should ever feel ashamed for caring deeply for - or loving.”

She left him there at that, in the quiet kitchen on his own, where all he could do was stare at his cold tea that was growing ever colder by the minute - and wonder if he’d said far too much to ever come back from.


	5. Chapter 5

Hashirama had never felt such overwhelming joy in his life. His days were spent helping guide his village through growth, leading alongside the many that had been elected by the different clans and even non-clan members that had come to make up Konoha. Evenings passed in delight as he grew ever closer to his dearest friend of so many years (he couldn’t help but count the ones they were at war, because Madara had ever been his friend even when they were forced to clash swords), and he found his heart bursting with love each and every time he was allowed to hold the man close to him.

Two of the greatest loves of his life were at his side, and Hashirama could only beam as he floated alongside the both of them, wanting the whole world to know how happy both Mito and Madara made him in their own unique and perfect ways and wanting to _share_ that love and happiness with the whole world right back.

The whole world often meaning his little brother. He found himself bouncing on Tobirama’s doorstep that morning, ever so happy to know the both of them didn’t have to go to work that day - it had been _so long_ since he’d been able to spend any sort of quality time with his sibling, after all. His little brother had thrown himself into his research and work lately even moreso than normal, and when Tobirama answered the door Hashirama didn’t wait for the invitation in, pushing into the house to squeeze his brother close (and ignoring the weak and adorable protests when he did).

“Tobira, you work too much! It’s been weeks!” Whatever grumbled correction Tobirama had for that was ignored just as easily as his protests; Hashirama was in far too good of a mood to pay attention to semantics. He pushed his brother towards the kitchen and set about fixing them some tea for the occasion, humming a soft tune as he went. It wasn’t really one he’d ever heard or hummed before but it felt _right_ to hum it in particular at that moment, as if it was coming straight from his singing heart.

At that thought he could almost hear Madara’s groaning, knowing the man would gripe about how frivolous and sappy his line of thinking was. But it wasn’t anything Hashirama could help, really. He’d long ago decided that he would be himself above anything anyone else wanted him to be, and that single decision had brought him almost every single bit of joy in his life so far. The one exception being, of course, the grumpy sibling currently slouching at the table. That particular massive part of his life had been by his side far before he'd ever made any significant decisions, and had been right there for each and every one he'd made.

“Slouching puts pressure on your spine, otouto,” Hashirama gently reminded his brother as he set up the table for tea. He plopped down in front of him after he was done, still beyond happy that they had any sort of time to spend together. “If it starts to hurt, let me know? It’s much easier to heal it early on than to wait.”

“My back is fine, Anija.”

Hashirama pouted but didn’t say anything else on the matter, pouring out their tea instead. By now he was more than used to Tobirama’s dry tones but it didn’t mean they didn’t hurt whenever they were used on him. Sometimes his brother could be so _mean_.

“Oh!” Hashirama put the kettle down a little too hasty when he remembered the exciting news he’d come to share to begin with, giving a bit of a yelp when some hot water splashed out and onto his leg. With a flicker of chakra he healed the burn instantly, looking up and giving a sheepish grin to the rather unamused man in front of him. “You have the whole day off today, yes?” At Tobirama’s rather reluctant nod Hashirama grinned widely, propping his chin up in the palm of one hand. “Madara finally agreed to teach me some traditional Uchiha recipes! Come have dinner with us later.”

“I’m not sure I’m up for being the odd man out.”

Hashirama cocked his head at that, his hair slipping over his shoulder as he did. “Why would it be odd for you to be there?”

Oh, but he _hated_ how Tobirama and Mito both could make those faces that screamed whole conversations at him. He drooped a bit when his brother scowled at him, not at all certain what he’d said to earn such a nonverbal lecture.

“Anija, who exactly is going to be there? You and Madara, yes? And I’m assuming Mito will be there as well.”

“Yes… Oh! And Izuna!” He scooted his cushion a bit closer to the table, knocking it with his knee a bit in the process and having to quickly grab his tea cup lest it spill more hot liquid onto the table. “I think Mito invited Touka as well, but I’m not sure if she’ll make it or not. So there won’t be too many people. No crowds, I promise; I know how you hate those.” The corners of his eyes crinkled a bit as he smiled at a memory, his brother looking even further from amused already. “Remember when you got lost at the capital when you were nine?”

“Oh, gods, Anija, _not this again_-”

“And you ended up jumping in the river to escape all those ‘horrible, awful, stinky people’?”

“I was _nine_, that was decades ago!”

Tobirama’s bright flush just made Hashirama chuckle further, his brotherly urge to poke fun at the _adorable_ man far too good to resist. “You held my hand so tightly after I found you. Wouldn’t let go for the rest of the evening, even after Tou-san got onto you for it.”

“Don’t think I don’t remember all the embarrassing shit _you_ did.” The smile instantly fell right off Hashirama’s face at that single sentence, a pout forming just as a knowing smirk grew across his brother’s face. “Like when you were convinced you’d killed all the house plants just because you’d said ‘a baddie’ around them.”

“Cursing _does_ give them bad energy!” His lower lip jutted out further at the disbelief and no-nonsense plastered on his brother’s face - which was entirely unfair considering it was the _truth_ and not nonsense at all. No matter how many times Tobirama tried to throw his scientific reasonings behind why it couldn’t be true, Hashirama just _knew_ it was. He could feel it the moment his plants were affected by energy, both good and bad, and just because he couldn’t explain it in fancy long words didn’t mean it was wrong.

Sometimes it was like they spoke whole other languages to each other. Which was entirely unfair because they were brothers, and brothers were supposed to be closer to each other than anyone else.

Not that he didn’t feel close to Tobirama. He stopped pouting, picking at some lint on his sleeve instead just to keep the hand not propping his chin up busy. There were a lot of people in the village who thought they weren’t that close considering the vast differences between their hobbies and the like, but Hashirama had always felt like his little brother was one of the people he could always come to, no matter what it was that was bothering him or dragging him down. One of his most precious people, and in a lot of ways his _most_ precious person.

He assumed Tobirama felt the same, though he had been a bit distant lately. Well...a bit more than a bit. Not popping into his office to check and make sure he was working nearly as often as he used to, hardly ever stopping by for dinner anymore; it was part of the reason Hashirama had come to invite him over to begin with. Despite seeing his brother so often it felt like he rarely saw him at all.

“We’re close, right?”

The question appeared to take Tobirama entirely off guard, the remaining remnants of the smirk falling away as his face sort of pinched in confusion. “You…proximity wise?”

“No, I mean - are we _close_? Like, Izuna and Madara close?”

“I’m not too aware of how close the two are, so I wouldn’t be able to say.”

“Well, it’s just- oh, maybe they’re a bad example…” Hashirama felt his face start to burn. Considering their closeness wasn’t something common for brothers nor something they typically showed out in public… Sometimes he still had a hard time remembering the exact nature of their relationship, despite how open Madara was with him about it.

Mentioning them at all with such a private matter to keep secret probably wasn’t the best idea he’d had that week. Because Tobirama was worse than a blood hound when he caught a scent, his eyes narrowing in an instant and leaving Hashirama’s toes curling as he tried his hardest to keep any more telling information off his own face.

“Exactly why would they be a bad example?”

“No reason! None at all!” His full-bodied reaction to that question wasn’t going to help his case but Hashirama couldn’t help himself, jolting back and waving his arms frantically as if that might make the question disappear.

It did not, in fact, erase either the question _or_ his brother’s curiosity. If anything, it only made the situation worse. Tobirama clicked his tongue as if he could taste Hashirama’s lie, leaning forward to rap his fingers against the table.

“You’ve never had a silver tongue, Anija. Leave the lying to someone who can pull it off.”

He had no idea what that meant but it still made him droop, nervously staring off towards the counter where all his brother’s spices were stacked neatly in one corner, all labeled and alphabetized like everything in his brother’s life was. “It’s not my place to talk about it, otouto…”

He really didn’t know if that would keep his brother’s curiosity at bay. As much as the man was a stickler for rules he’d never really been one to listen to boundaries as well; or, at least whenever it came to him. It came as a relief, then, when Tobirama just exhaled deeply through his nose instead of questioning him further, letting Hashirama relax knowing he hadn’t spilled _too_ many beans over his newest lover’s secret.

Not that he thought Madara would be too upset if people knew how much he loved his little brother. As far as he’d learned the Uchiha as a whole were very open to familial bonds turning into stronger and deeper love, and Madara’s personality definitely would lean towards him rather being up front with it than hiding or lying to cover their relationship up.

But all of that was beside the point. He shuffled a bit closer to drop his head on the table, peeking up through his hair at his little brother, hating how seldom he got to see his face anymore.

“You’ll be there, right?” Pulling out his pout probably wouldn’t get him anywhere since his brother had long become immune to it but Hashirama couldn’t help himself. He wanted his little brother to be there. He _missed_ him.

At least Tobirama seemed to be giving it more consideration this time. He even scratched at the wood like he always did when he was thinking - though it was usually more of a nervous thought tic, which was a bit odd. But Hashirama didn’t have much time to ponder on that before Tobirama was giving a defeated sigh, draining the last of his tea and setting the cup down a bit harder than necessary.

“I’ll be there. But I’m not promising to stay long.”

“That’s fine!” Hashirama perked right up again, feeling his nose wrinkle as he grinned over at his little brother. “I won’t make you stay long, I promise. Just a short visit.”

His little brother gave him that look that meant he was not at all believing what he said but Hashirama was far too giddy to pay it any mind. With his mission for the day complete - well, one of them - he hopped right back up, having to settle the kettle again as Tobirama heaved an exasperated sigh in his direction.

With a few short goodbyes and gripe filled hugs (and thankfully no more spilled tea), Hashirama made his way back outside and towards the market to prepare for the evening. Madara had left him a list the night before - well, verbally tossed a list in his direction - of ingredients they’d be needing, and since most of them were not commonly used in Senju or Uzumaki dishes he had quite a bit of shopping to do. He hummed a pleasant tune to himself as he went along his way, weaving in and out of the crowds while stopping here and there to greet his citizens.

It warmed his heart like little else could to know they felt comfortable enough to speak with him like this. In a cozy atmosphere with little stiff collars or stuffy rules, out and about as if he were nothing more than an average dweller in the village. Which, in his mind, he mostly was. Yes, he sat in a chair and dealt with paperwork most of his days, but he was only in a higher position to most of them because they’d _given_ him that title, and it made his chest swell with both pride and humility to know they all trusted him so thoroughly.

These were his people. His family beyond his family, each and every child and parent and cousin someone he felt connected to in a way he’d never seen in his own clan before Konoha was founded. It was a beautiful thing he hoped to nurture until his final breath, in hopes that those who came after him would always feel like they could call this place home - and call every one of their neighbors family.

A nice elderly couple had to stop and console his tears at such thoughts, and it took several minutes to explain to them that he was merely happy beyond measure and not upset in the slightest.

The rest of his shopping took the vast majority of the afternoon from him. Between being stopped by the occasional passerby, speaking with the stall owners, and helping a lost little Hyuuga girl find her parents, the hours just slipped him by. But Hashirama didn’t mind, a tune still bouncing his steps as he made his way back to the Senju compound, his pace quickening once he felt Madara’s chakra burning away in his home.

That was something Hashirama hoped he never got used to. Not that he didn’t want to come home to Madara every single day for the rest of their lives, he just didn’t want to ever stop feeling so light and fuzzy and _joyful_ over knowing he could walk right into his home and kiss the man senseless.

Not that he lived there with him or even came over every day, but a man could dream.

Mito was in the back garden so he made sure to swing by there first, taking a few minutes to soak the image of her in when she came into view: surrounded by the flowers and vegetables he’d grown himself, her hair like fire in the sunlight, a book unfolded in her lap while she chewed on the end of her quill. It was so rare to see her anything but entirely composed outside of their home so it was something he took every chance to admire, it not once being lost on him that so few had the right to see the Uzumaki princess relaxed enough to not be rigid with formalities.

“You’re beautiful.” He couldn’t help but breathe it out, catching Mito’s attention despite how quietly he’d spoken the words. All she did was hum, a hand flickering up to tuck some of the stray locks of hair back that had fallen out of her buns.

“I do believe Madara-san is getting impatient, Husband.”

Hashirama approached her, kneeling down right in front of where she sat on the wooden bench he’d made last summer, taking one of her hands into his own to lay gentle kisses on. “What is it today, love? Sketching or jutsu practice?”

“Neither.” Her fingers ran against his jawline, softness touching her face as she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “It has been far too long since I practiced the poetic arts. Obaa-san would be quite disappointed in me.”

“We could write renga later if you’d like? I’m sure everyone would love the activity.” Poetry writing with all of his dear ones - that was something Hashirama had for some shameful reason never thought to do. It had him squirming with delight. The garden was surely big enough for everyone to sit comfortably in, and the koi pond and small rock waterfall would definitely give them just the right atmosphere to pull on the creative vibes from nature through.

Mito laughed ever so softly at him, cupping his cheek as her own dimpled with mirth. “Dearest, I don’t believe forcing everyone to write renga would be the best of activities for the evening. Besides, it is supposed to storm in an hour or so.”

“Is it?” Hashirama glanced up at the sky with a frown, not seeing a single wisp of a cloud above them.

“It will.” As he drooped into her lap at that certainty - Mito had never once been wrong about a coming storm - she set her book and quill to the side, running her fingers through his hair in that way that always made him melt with contentment.

Letting himself enjoy this for a few minutes was definitely a good decision. Hashirama had always had a problem with having too much energy, and one of the greatest parts of his and Mito’s relationship was that she helped alleviate some of the excess by calming him down. Something he direly needed some days, especially ones filled with so much excitement, and just the simple act of her playing with his hair made it easier to get up and head into the house without needed to run off and train or do some other energy consuming activity for several hours.

Taking so long had made Madara impatient, however. His other partner was waiting for him rather pointedly in the kitchen, with a hot cup of spiced cocoa steaming away in his hands. Without even paying much attention to the adorable frown on Madara’s face Hashirama went right up and kissed him, loving how easily the man accepted his affection. If he was being honest with himself he’d expected Madara to be someone who denied himself such things in favor of ‘saving face’, so it had been a pleasant surprise to find that he didn’t shove him away whenever they were in private.

He was still a bit hesitant whenever Mito was in the room, but nothing worth working for was ever perfect immediately.

But Madara did eventually swat him away, much to his disappointment - especially since he was far less susceptible to his pouting than Tobirama was. “If we don’t start now the food won’t be ready until past dark, and I’m _not_ starving myself just so you can get handsy.”

“H-handsy?” Flailing a bit at the suggestion, Hashirama nearly fell right on top of Madara, who he’d been leaning over in order to kiss. Before he could, Madara pushed him right onto his rump, complaining though the exact words were lost to Hashirama’s insistence that he had been doing nothing of the sort.

It was another half hour before either of them buckled down to get any of the prep work done. Madara quickly became the boss of the kitchen, snipping out orders while he aggressively chopped and diced up fresh spices for the dinner. He did his best to keep up with the Uchiha’s fast pace, though at least a few times he found himself shoved right out of the way because he wasn’t ‘doing it the correct way’. By the time an hour had passed, though, Hashirama found himself cheerily humming as they went about sautéing some of the vegetables, steaming a few dumplings, frying up some beef in a skillet that had seen far too little use since it had been bought several years before.

His kitchen was lively, and he loved it.

Mito eventually joined them, with her hair notably fixed right back up again and not a single bit of flaming hair displaced anymore. Never having had much skill in the kitchen she sat herself down to watch instead, a very soft smile on her face as the two men hurried about around her. Her presence only made it all the warmer in Hashirama’s mind, and by the time the guests started arriving he wasn’t certain he’d ever been happier in his entire life.

This is all he ever wanted, could have ever asked for. With all the greatest loves and passions of his life to be near and dear and getting along so well, in the village everyone had scoffed at the idea of - and for whatever reason always mistook as his own dream instead of it being Madara’s as it actually had been.

“Husband, is there a reason you’re crying?” Mito gave him one of her many looks and he had to wave his hand, sniffing at his own thoughts again. She sighed and went to greet their guests instead of pushing for an answer. Within the half hour everyone had arrived, and Mito quickly abandoned the busy house in favor of spending time with Touka in the garden; Hashirama sent her a knowing grin, his nose wrinkling with joy at how well those two seemed to be getting along.

There were many things Hashirama could not give his wife, and Touka’s presence seemed to be very good for her. At this rate it looked as if she’d be a rather permanent fixture in Mito’s life and he could only hope Touka could love her just as deeply and dearly as he himself did.

Despite having seen his little brother earlier that day, Hashirama still pulled him into a tight hug the moment he saw him, squeezing him as if he hadn’t seen him in months. Tobirama did his best to wriggle away after giving him a few pats on the back in return but still didn’t manage to escape right away, giving Hashirama a glower that was dulled a bit by the blush spreading on his cheeks.

It ended up being just as casual a gathering as Hashirama had hoped it would be. His entire childhood had been filled with stuffy family gatherings set around a single table, where not a single person had felt comfortable enough to even speak beyond polite greetings or assurances that the food tasted adequately decent. Everyone feeling comfortable enough to spread out and enjoy the food at their leisure, standing or sitting, inside or out, it was just such a blessing to be able to create such an atmosphere and have them all here together with him. Even Tobirama seemed to be having a good time despite his earlier reservations, standing off in a corner with Izuna, though his eyes did flicker towards Hashirama at least a few times while Tobirama’s face got red again.

Hashirama was just considering heading over to speak with him, maybe to check his forehead just to be absolutely positive he wasn’t getting a fever, when he felt someone bump into his arm. He blinked over to find Madara had come to stand next to him, though the other man’s gaze was fixed over in Izuna and Tobirama’s direction as well.

“They seem to get along well, don’t they?” Hashirama tilted his head with a grin, having to bend forward a bit to try to catch Madara’s eyes. “Remember when the first walls were being built? They were still at each other’s throats every afternoon! Hardly feels like the war ever happened at this point.”

“Depends on where you go or who you ask.” Hashirama drooped at the cold reminder, knowing Madara was right about that. There were still those who resisted change even after all the years of peace had distanced them from the conflicts and war. But he heard Madara sigh and lifted his head back up, noticing the other’s gaze still hadn’t left their brothers.

“What’s on your mind?”

Madara shook his head a bit, just shifting his eyes over to him instead of turning his head to face him. “Similar to what’s on yours, I suppose. I used to get so on edge just thinking about your brother being near mine. Now I think they look rather fetching together.”

“Yes, I remember tha- what?” Hashirama blinked a few times, then whipped his head to stare over at their brothers and whipped it right back. “What do you mean by that? Fetching how?”

“What do you mean ‘how’? Do you even have a brain in that thick head of yours?” Madara ignored his hurt protests at that, gesturing towards their brothers with a jerk of his head. “They look good together. Complement each other.”

“I suppose…” Hashirama’s voice trailed off with a deep pout, still hurt that one of his partners would suggest he had no brain. With it trailing off his eyes drifted back towards their brothers, noticing Izuna had his tongue poking through his grinning teeth while Tobirama seemed to be getting a bit worked up over something. “They do make really good friends, even if they still spat once in a while.”

“That’s not what I mean, you absolute imbecile.” He flinched and drooped at the harsh insult, even as Madara continued speaking. “I mean they look _good_ together. As in attractive. You do know what ‘attractive’ means, yes?”

“Yes.” His lower lip jutted out as he looked up at Madara, still hurt but a little confused about what Madara was talking about. “How do they look good together?”

“Kami, how do you even function on such little processing capabilities?” Madara frowned at him as if he should already understand what he was talking about, giving his shoulder a shove to tell him to stand back up straight. Which he did, though his pout stayed firmly in place. “Can’t believe you’re going to make me walk you through this - they’re both attractive, yes?”

“Maybe?”

“That’s a yes or no question, Hashirama.” When he didn’t give him either of those answers, Madara pinched the bridge of his nose, swearing into his high collar. “Izuna is an attractive man, yes?” Hashirama gave him a slow nod, and so Madara continued, “and so is Tobirama?”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“You’ve got eyes, don’t you?”

Hashirama waffled in place, peeking over at his brother, who was now shoving Izuna’s shoulder and looking as if he might be cursing the younger Uchiha. “Yes, but- but Tobirama’s my _brother_! I can’t tell if he’s attractive.” The last word he couldn’t help but whisper, his heart beating a touch faster, turning and giving Madara his most wide-eyed look - and not gaining even an ounce of sympathy for his efforts.

“I fuck Izuna. Being siblings has nothing to do with knowing whether or not someone’s attractive.”

Floundering a bit at Madara’s brashness, he whipped his head around again to stare at their brothers, hearing some sort of small noise come out of himself. He’d never given any thought to whether Tobirama was attractive before. Of course he’d thought his little brother was _adorable_ as a small child, with his chubby cheeks and big pouts that tugged at his heart, and he still thought he was adorable now. But attractive?

Izuna was, for sure, in that way that many Uchiha were. Dark hair with pale skin, cute lips, long eyelashes and high cheek bones. He was quick, too, in body and mind, and Hashirama would be a flat-out liar if he said his thoughts had always been innocent concerning him.

But Tobirama… He shifted his weight a bit, eventually just deciding to lean against the wall next to him, squinting over at his brother and _really_ looking at him. The little boy he’d doted on throughout his childhood was hardly there anymore despite Hashirama’s insistence that his brother was still as cute as a button, and it took some honest to the gods _doing_ to see past all of that anyway.

His brother was certainly not unattractive. Face slightly sharper than Izuna’s, lips a little fuller, all the hair on his face so white he could barely see it. Tall and broad shouldered, maybe not as broad as himself, long legs that had plenty of well-toned muscles packed into them, long fingers as well, all together strong and lean-

“See?” Madara’s voice cut through Hashirama’s staring and thoughts, making him gulp as he turned sheepishly back to his partner. “He’s attractive.”

“I guess…” He wrung his hands together, deciding it was much safer to stare at them rather than anyone else.

“Just wait til he turns around. His ass is something else.”

“_Madara_!”

Hashirama didn’t stick around to stay the subject of Madara’s snickering, having had quite enough of his teasing for the afternoon. Not to mention he was not at all ready for whatever revelation was on the cusp of taking place in his mind. He slumped right on outside where he found Mito and Touka, feeling a little sorry for interrupting their alone time but unable to bring himself to do anything else besides lay his head right into Mito’s lap for the second time that day, wailing into the fabric of her kimono about how unfair Madara was to him - without daring to say so much as a single peep about what had upset him so much this time around.


	6. Chapter 6

Having spent most of his career as a shinobi dealing with intel, Izuna caught on a lot faster than most would think. So many saw the way that the Uchiha and Senju had clashed swords in groups and compared them to the ‘barbaric samurai’ of Tetsu no Kuni that they often forgot the Uchiha were a noble _shinobi_ clan, having survived and adapted through decades and kept up rather well in the ever changing political climate in Hi no Kuni.

Izuna prided himself in being at least a good part of that, if not the entire reason the Uchiha had stayed ahead of so many of the other clans while their forces dwindled during the last few years of the war. His brother had been the driving force on the front lines, pushing back the Senju and preventing as much loss on their own end as possible, but it had been Izuna who ran the ever extending web of information that kept them safe from ambushes and two-faced dealings with the rest of the country.

And just because they were at peace now didn’t mean Izuna had lost his touch.

He sat down at the kitchen table, coffee steaming in a mug in front of him despite it being past noon, finally letting himself relax. The entire morning had been spent scrubbing the house down since it hadn’t been done for well over half a year, the stolen kage bunshin technique having helped his progress along beautifully even though he’d only been able to create two clones in total.

Snickering a bit to himself, he propped an elbow up on the table, fiddling with the mug while he let the coffee cool down enough to drink. Tobirama still hadn’t figured out he’d swiped the technique from his personal lab a few months before, and just knowing that he’d managed to sneak through all his traps without leaving a single trace behind was enough to keep him satisfied for _years_.

Though that wasn’t the only thing that had him snickering in Tobirama’s face the night before. Uchiha as a whole were rather keen on the love arts, despite how bull headed and oblivious his own brother was, but Izuna had been watching people, truly _watching_ them, since his eyes had first peeked open. Catching a whiff of Tobirama’s desires had been simply child’s play, and no matter how fervently the man had tried to deny them there was little hope of throwing him off the trail now.

He had the formings of a plan he’d been working on ever since he’d spotted Tobirama in the park watching both of their brothers. Nothing much just yet even though he’d teased Tobirama with some of his information; just remembering the horrified snipping in return had kept him in a rather good mood throughout his cleaning spree.

Knowing someone like Tobirama would be honestly _good_ for Madara likewise kept his focus on running scenarios through his head the entire time he’d had his hands busy.

His brother had been away all day, dealing with one of the informants that had their connections to Konoha through the Uchiha. Normally Izuna would have attended as well but the clanless man had held a grudge over something from their childhood. Izuna still didn’t regret the pranks but he did wish Madara would have at least let him trail behind him in secret. Certainly wouldn’t have been the first time he’d done so, and it most definitely wouldn’t have been the last either.

The fact that Madara had left before sunrise shouldn’t have been any secret sort of information. So the fact that Izuna could feel Hashirama approaching their house - assuming it was here the man was headed, which was a very safe assumption to make - was a bit puzzling. As far as he knew the man didn’t have any formal business with him, though there was always the promise of personal business.

A promise he was quite willing to accept. He sipped his coffee before setting it back down, getting back up to put the kettle on. If memory served him, and it usually did, Hashirama was an avid tea drinker. Their house might be rather bare of variety but he was certain he had a few stashed away that might be to the Senju’s taste.

It wasn’t quite done heating up yet whenever the insistent knock came on the front door. Izuna frowned to himself as he made his way to let Hashirama in, the frown instantly disappearing the moment the door was cracked open and replaced by his usual half-smirk grin.

All Hashirama did was shift his weight in the doorway for a minute, eventually peeking into the house and around Izuna, his eyes a bit wide as if he wasn’t certain about something. “Is Madara home?”

“No, but I am.” He gestured into the house in invitation, standing and waiting while Hashirama made up his mind on whether he wanted to come in or not.

He did, eventually, though he still had an air of confusion about him. Izuna had to remind him where the kitchen was and had to gesture to one of the seats before Hashirama even sat down. While the kettle boiled, silence stayed in their company, Izuna watching Hashirama out of the corner of his eye while the other man fiddled about cleaning the nonexistent dirt out from under his fingernails.

“I’m afraid I only have plain green tea. Sugar?”

“Wha- oh, yes. I mean, yes, please.”

Izuna pursed his lips when he turned away from his guest, his expression once more entirely calm whenever he turned back to him with his tea. “Why don’t we go outside? It’s still stuffy in here, and some air will do us good, yes?” All Hashirama did was give him an absent nod, though Izuna was glad to note he did follow along behind him. His own coffee was left abandoned for the moment in the kitchen, his focus shifted on puzzling out this newest mystery that had landed right on his front doorstep.

He left the back door open to let the air in, having no desire to let the air in the house stay as dusty as it was at the moment. Their back porch was at least mostly secluded and the roof would keep Izuna from dying from the heat. He settled down on the swing Hashirama had built himself - he’d actually built the entire house for him and Madara, modeling it after the Uchiha main house from their previous compound - and patted the spare space next to him, letting Hashirama have the side closest to the garden.

There was far too much quiet between them. Even out here, closer to his natural element, Hashirama still seemed a bit stiff and confused with himself. Izuna spotted some flowers growing right off the porch, peonies and carnations if his mother’s lessons had taught him well, and he knew his guest wasn’t growing them on purpose. Absent flora growing usually happened around him whenever he was over excited or upset; it was strange for it to be happening when he seemed so subdued.

At least that confirmed something serious was on his mind. Serious being subjective considering the man in question. Hashirama could get worked up over the oddest of things, and right then Izuna really had no clue what might be bothering him.

He wanted to groan at himself when he realized a simple way of fixing that. Sitting there and staring at Hashirama might not give him answers despite how much of an open book the man was, but _talking_ to him could at least give him something. At least he knew where to start asking; since it was apparent Hashirama had come here to talk to _Madara_, he could simply work his way from there and weasel the information out of him.

“Did Aniki not tell you he was going on a mission this morning?”

Hashirama blinked over at him as if he hadn’t realized he was still there, using his toes to push against the porch and swing them a bit. “I think he might have…”

“You two were talking last night, yes? Would be odd if he didn’t bring it up then.”

“What? We weren’t talking about anything odd last night! Just- just chatting!”

Ah. Izuna kept his face schooled at that disastrous backpedaling, instinctively wanting to bare his teeth at the cornered prey. So Madara and Hashirama had talked about something interesting last night. He leaned back on the swing, scooting a bit closer to Hashirama as he did. “I’m sure you didn’t. Everything was very innocent, just like my talks with Tobirama.”

“W-why would you bring him up?”

Hashirama was practically sweating at the name. This was too easy. He could practically smell the answer on the other man. Izuna figured only a small handful of people could be involved if there was something personal bothering Hashirama _that _much. Looks like his job was doing itself for him - and he really had no problem with that.

“You’re aware of mine and Aniki’s relationship, yes?” A question he already knew the answer to; Madara had brought it up with Hashirama before they decided to be together, and had even brought up the potential of Izuna being with the other man as well (something that he was sure had been brought to Mito’s attention as well, if her knowing glances were anything to go by). Izuna watched as Hashirama swallowed, his adam’s apple bouncing with the movement, hair blowing over his shoulder in the breeze as he nodded in response. Too easy, really. He reached out to brush it behind Hashirama’s back again, tilting his head innocently as he frowned. “Tobirama and yourself seem rather close. If I’m honest, I’d thought your relationship was the same.”

That simple insinuation was enough to make Hashirama full body freeze. His eyes blew wide, mouth slightly open, the flowers absently growing next to them stopping and almost unmoving in the breeze still blowing about them.

At least he knew full well now what had caused Hashirama’s upset mood. Izuna scooted and crossed the few inches left between them, letting his own thigh push up against Hashirama’s, placing a comforting hand on the man’s knee.

“It’s not, though, is it?” Despite how often Izuna was harsh and blunt with people, he knew how to be gentle when it was needed and kept his voice soft then. The man’s skull might be thicker than the wood of his mokuton but apparently about this subject he spooked easy; it was probably for the best that he hadn’t managed to run to Madara for comfort after all. Izuna loved his brother dearly but the man had difficulties understanding how to deal with delicate situations, that they required careful poking and prodding to get the desired results.

Hashirama seemed to be able to breathe after that soft question, his shoulders dropping from the release of tension, his gaze shifting to firmly settle on his lap. It didn’t seem to register for him to respond so Izuna squeezed his knee, already knowing the answer either way: their relationship _wasn__’t_ like that - but that wasn’t how Hashirama wanted it to stay.

Whether or not the man was willing to admit that truth was another issue. A non-issue, really, because Izuna didn’t care if he was willing to or not. He was used to pushing idiots in the right direction anyway; at this rate, he figured he should start billing at least the Senju ones. Could make a right fortune if he did.

“The Senju aren’t very open to such relationships, are they?” Not surprising, of course. Most clans weren’t despite how ridiculous it was to shun such love; it was the main reason Madara and Izuna didn’t make their own relationship public outside of the Uchiha compound - and a select few individuals within their circle, though that addition was rather new. “But you didn’t reject Aniki even knowing he was with me. Why was that?”

“I was already with Mito. Didn’t see a reason to be upset over him being with someone else, too.” Hashirama’s lip poked out in the beginnings of a pout, and Izuna had to firmly remind himself he wasn’t allowed to kiss him. Not yet. Not until _after_ he led the man to the right conclusion over his latent incestuous feelings.

He did feel like that answer might be Hashirama purposely not getting the point, though. Soothing his hand up and down the man’s thigh, making sure to keep it a platonic touch (for now), he leaned over further to catch his eyes again. “Yes, but, correct me if I’m wrong, the Uzumaki and the Senju are not the same clan. Mito and yourself are not related by blood.” Giving Hashirama a second to process that, he continued, “It’s a bit of a stretch to use your relationship with your wife, who you’re unrelated to, as a reasoning to be perfectly fine with Aniki and I being together when your clan vehemently rejects the idea of sibling love. Yes?”

“I just…maybe?” Hashirama shook his head a bit, peeking through his rather long eyelashes at Izuna. “I don’t see anything wrong with you and Madara loving each other.”

“Most of your clan does.” Izuna shrugged, dismissing that fact as if it meant nothing to him. “But I’m sure Aniki was happy to hear you weren’t disgusted with us. Would’ve been a pain to deal with him if you had.”

“Don’t know why anyone would.” Hashirama finally sat back up, though he remained slouched a bit. “It’s love. All love is beautiful.”

“So why don’t you admit you love your brother?”

Going in for the kill always thrilled Izuna. He watched as Hashirama floundered, wide eyed and looking ready to bolt while at the same time rooted to the spot. The poor man had probably thought himself safe, thought they’d moved away from him and his brother, but in the end Izuna always got what he wanted.

And at the moment, he wanted the Senju’s tree man to hurry up with this discovery so he could make a move of his own. At this rate Tobirama would have his chance before Izuna could, and considering their rivalry had never really ended he really didn’t want to give the moon rabbit that win.

Perhaps a bit counterproductive of him to push for Hashirama to figure out his feelings for the other Senju, then, but just because they were rivals didn’t mean they were still _enemies_. Izuna had a heart. He wasn’t going to purposely keep Tobirama from happiness for the sake of getting some dick. Besides, he had his own brother for that if he really needed any.

Though while he was showing Tobirama some mercy, it would probably do the world some good to show Hashirama some as well. Izuna heaved a deep sigh, patting the frozen man’s knee in faux sympathy. “’All love is beautiful’. You just said that, and now you’re frozen in, what? Shame? Horror? At just the idea that you might love Tobirama. A bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” He laid his head against Hashirama’s shoulder, staring off in front of them just for the lack of anywhere else interesting to look. “If there’s room for both Mito and Madara in your life, I doubt there’d be any problem finding room for Tobirama, too. And maybe someone else as well.”

“I…” Hashirama swallowed audibly, his shoulder sagging and taking Izuna with it. “I don’t even know if- what if he doesn’t…? I can’t just bring something like this up!”

At least he wasn’t trying to deny it. The hand that was resting on his knee moved to his arm, Izuna not so subtly admiring the strong muscles there. Sure, Madara was muscular; his fighting style demanded his body to remain in exquisite shape. But Hashirama’s muscles were just _next level_ delicious.

“Tobirama’s always been drawn to taboos,” he mused aloud, tracing a finger up and down the shape of Hashirama’s bicep. _Delicious_. “Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if this is one that’s snared him as well.”

It was honestly surprising that had never occurred to Hashirama before. He peeked up just in time to watch the dawning realization bloom across that gorgeous face, wondering how on earth it had been up to him to make him realize anything. Tobirama really _was_ drawn to taboo: he cut through politics and had found loopholes through centuries old traditions, often said Fuck It All to social norms and customs, had to be talked down by several people just to put away his work on summoning the _dead_ (something Izuna wasn’t in the least bit convinced he’d actually stopped working on). Was it really so hard to believe that loving his own brother more than typically acceptable was something he wouldn’t have already touched?

Apparently not, considering the light of hope in those carob eyes. They started to shine a bit and Izuna had to look away, not really ready to deal with any waterworks no matter if the cause was a good one. Definitely not his forte.

“So, that’s settled then? Not going to sit here and pine over someone you have an actual chance with?” He teased but meant the suggestion in all earnest, seeing Hashirama nod furiously out of the corner of his eye and promptly ignored the emotional sniff that followed.

The arms that scooped him up into a rather tight embrace, however, were harder to ignore.

“Thank you so much, ‘zuna.”

Izuna grunted as the arms squeezed him tighter, his hands trapped between them and up against Hashirama’s chest - which, in all honest, wasn’t the worst place to have them. He still squirmed until the man let him go, trying not to huff as he fixed up his ponytail and waved away the man’s sheepish apology.

“You’re going to talk to him then, yes?” He gave the esteemed hokage a look that said quite clearly he wasn’t allowed to say no, and when he didn’t he let a small smirk tug at the corners of his lips. “Good. Now then,” his voice slipped into a purr, his hand once again finding those delicious muscles he’d been tracing earlier. “Since Aniki’s away for the afternoon and I believe Tobirama’s rather wrapped up in his lab, why don’t we explore some taboos of our own?”

The suggestion itself had Hashirama’s cheeks turning a brilliant red but he didn’t push Izuna away when he slid into his lap, rather put his hands on his hips and held him closer. When he leaned in and finally got a taste of those lips, he caught a glimpse of something growing in the garden right behind the porch swing. White violets, a patch of them, though he did little more than acknowledge their existence before his eyes slid shut and his hands tangled into Hashirama’s hair, finding his attention quite thoroughly taken by the tongue that had found its way into his mouth.

Izuna always found a way to get what he wanted; he thought it had worked out quite well for him that it had taken little effort at all to capture the attention of this delight of a man beneath him - and to push the same man in the right direction to finally make those forlorn looks of Tobirama’s go away for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floriography:  
Peony: Shame/Gay life/Happy Marriage  
Carnations (red): My Heart Aches for You/Admiration  
Violets (white): Let's Take a Chance at Happiness


	7. Chapter 7

Hashirama had been brushing his hair for over an hour.

He was seated in the bedroom he shared with Mito, all of his long hair pulled over his right shoulder, the ornate brush that had been given as a wedding gift from the Hyuuga slowly being worked through the already tangle free strands. With his mind made up on speaking to Tobirama thanks to the evening he’d spent with Izuna the day before, he had planned and gotten up extra early to make sure he looked his best whenever he went over to his little brother’s home for lunch, and had been doing just that all morning.

Not that he’d been invited. Or even knew if his brother would be home. He just knew he had to go speak with him at some point that day because all the feelings bubbling up in his chest were already getting too much to handle. Keeping secrets had never been his forte, especially when they were his own, and Hashirama just simply felt far too much to keep it to himself.

But every time he tried to put the brush down, his hand got shaky and his face burned. It wasn’t exactly shame that kept him rooted in spot, going over and over his hair despite it having been perfectly acceptable after the first few minutes; it was just that he had _no idea_ how to bring this sort of thing up with his brother.

Tobirama had always been a quiet sort of emotional being. Of course he felt - everyone felt, no matter how hard some tried to hide it - but he didn’t like to _show_ that he felt anything, and that bled over and into discomfort when it came to dealing with other’s emotions as well. Sure, he always did his best to listen to his brother whenever he came to him with problems, but the fact of the matter was that Tobirama _didn__’t like_ discussing such issues.

It was possible he wouldn’t react well to any sort of confession. That Hashirama wasn’t certain either way left him in somewhat of a slump, unable to bring himself to get up and just go. Tobirama was his little brother; it felt like he should know him better than this, and yet he couldn’t even accurately predict how he’d react to news from him.

Or, at least, he _assumed_ he couldn’t predict it accurately.

But he had to go talk to him. Hashirama took a deep breath, purposely releasing the tension in his neck and shoulders, closing his eyes and just letting himself breathe for a few minutes.

He could do this. Could absolutely go speak with his brother, the person he’d known longer than anyone else still alive, and could tell him of his feelings. The chances that this would ruin their relationship were significantly low and that’s all that mattered; even if they couldn’t be together Hashirama couldn’t keep this all bottled up forever. Tobirama deserved to know, and he himself deserved the chance to speak his heart and mind.

He could absolutely do this. All he had to do was convince his legs to stop feeling like jelly and limp noodles.

“Husband?”

With a rather high-pitched squeak Hashirama’s head whipped to the side, his eyes landing on his wife, who was standing in the doorway. Mito had gotten up earlier than him as usual, her hair a bit displaced and cheeks a touch red as she went about trying to fix her buns. If he remembered correctly she’d planned to go spend more time with Touka this morning. Training must have taken a bit of a lovely turn if that sparkle in her eyes was anything to go by, and normally he'd rejoice in the news if his mind wasn't elsewhere tearing into itself.

“Is there a reason you haven’t touched breakfast yet?”

He gave her a sheepish sort of grin, ducking down as he scratched at the back of his neck, an explanation on the tip of his tongue when he froze in the realization that they hadn’t once discussed the situation with Tobirama.

“…Mito?”

Something in his face or tone must have given his fears away. With a very subtle twitch of her lips, Mito turned and shut the door behind her, coming over to kneel next to her husband at the low sitting desk that was used for knickknacks more than anything else.

“Come, husband. Speak your mind.”

He knew Mito was being extra gentle with him when she didn’t even complain about him twisting his hakama in his nerves. All she did was place a hand on his arm, letting him take his time and work out how best to speak his worries.

If he remembered correctly, the Uzumaki were open to more than just multiple relationships at once. But that could have just been wishful dreaming on his end; after giving the talk with Izuna more thought through the night, he’d realized that it was possible he’d had more than familial feelings for Tobirama for much longer than he’d allowed himself to know. So maybe his mind was supplying him with hopes where there might not be any.

That sounded like something minds would do. He sulked a bit, wishing Tobirama was there to tell him if that was possible or not. His brother had always been the scientist, not him.

“I think I might have found someone.”

“Was it Izuna?”

Hashirama started to shake his head but stopped himself, turning with a bit of a pout as he stared over at his wife. “I did speak with you about him, yes? Was it okay for me to visit with him?”

“Yes, dearest,” Mito gave one of her soft laughs as she tucked some of his hair back behind his ear. “We spoke at length about him, and as I stated before I have no problems with you and him visiting one another. As long as Madara does not mind as well, and he does not, spend as much time with him as you’d like.”

That was a relief. He slumped right into her chest, happily sighing as she played with his hair. Sometimes his memory behaved as if he were already decades older, loving to betray him, but at least in this instance he hadn’t accidentally overstepped a boundary. Their marriage might be open to other partnerships within it but they were still _married_; simply going off and being with someone without discussing it first would be a massive break of trust that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stomach doing.

Which, of course, brought him right back into a slump, because Izuna wasn’t the only person he’d found himself wanting the company of as of late.

“…I found someone else, too.”

“Considering your reaction to my question, I assumed so.” Mito kept running her fingers through his hair, fiddling with the ends a bit as she hummed. “Will I have to guess at it, or do you plan to give me a name?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He peeked up at her, waiting for her to nod before he continued - and paused before he managed a single syllable, because if Mito was asking for a name… “Wait, you really don’t know?”

That earned him both a look and a sigh, though the rarity of the situation made any of Mito's _looks_ worth it. “No, husband, I’m afraid I’m not sure who else you’ve found. And won’t until you tell me.” She wasn’t even trying to be subtle with her hint for him to continue, but Hashirama was too busy grinning and fidgeting in spot to pay any attention to that.

He’d actually done it. Figured something out about himself before his omniscient wife did. It had him giggling a bit, arms wrapping right around her waist to squeeze her close even as he lifted his head up to tease. “I thought you knew everything, love. Must be losing your touch!”

Being able to tease his wife was such a treat. She rarely ever reacted to it, always a dozen steps ahead of him and seemingly everyone else, so she never had reason to. Seeing her cheeks heat up even the slightest bit made him absolutely giddy, and he nosed right into the pink growing there.

Hashirama knew better than to push his luck, of course. Good natured or not, Mito didn’t care for being teased very much, and the last thing he wanted was to truly upset her. Mostly because he loved her and never wanted to make her uncomfortable, and partly because he’d learned over the years that upsetting anyone one lived with was one of the worst mistakes imaginable.

Most would think Mito would be above pettiness, but then most didn’t realize she always had others reenact her revenge for her.

“I did have plans for later this evening.” Mito’s hint for Hashirama to get on with the conversation wasn’t lost on him this time; he straightened back up, a bit of his smile fading away as he thought of how he’d bring this up to her.

“Well, it’s… It’s definitely someone you know.” One look at his wife told him she wasn’t going to put up with him talking around the topic for very long; Hashirama slouched into a sigh, picking at the loose skin around his fingernails as his eyes cut away from her again. “You know how Madara and Izuna are close?”

“I’m assuming there’s something else I’m unaware of if you’re stating the obvious.”

Two things he figured out before his wife. That had to be a record for the ages, but Hashirama was a bit too queasy at the moment to find joy in it anymore. He felt a bit of sweat beading on his forehead, swallowing to try to find his words again. “They enjoy each other’s company more than most brothers do.” At least that was enough to get the point across to Mito - apparently more than enough, because her eyes lit up in that way that would make him a bit nervous in any situation.

“Dearest, shall I be seeing more of your brother around the house in the future?”

His eyes misted at how gentle her tone was. Hashirama buried his face in the crook of her neck, clutching her close as she went back to petting his hair. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how he feels, we haven’t discussed anything yet.”

“I think you’ll find the outcome to your liking.”

Mito refused to explain herself, only giving him a sly smile whenever he asked her to. With a small kiss to his nose, and the assurance that she would enjoy Tobirama’s company around the house very much, Mito left him to his pouting and mental preparation for the afternoon.

It was passed midday by the time Hashirama gathered up his courage enough to show up on his brother’s doorstep. Tobirama had sensed him coming of course, having put the kettle on with a deep and defeated sigh, knowing there was little that could be done but wait around for his brother to get there. Running off to avoid him wouldn’t fix any of his problems, and the nervous yet determined energy he could feel in that massive chakra had him curious anyway.

Tobirama found himself far too curious whenever it involved his brother. A dangerous thing, that curiosity, but he already knew he was in too deep to turn back now.

In his nervousness, Hashirama didn’t even knock on his door. Tobirama shook his head at the rudeness and just went about fixing his tea, having timed putting the kettle on well enough to have the water hot and ready for steeping the herbal tea for him - there was no way he’d be letting Hashirama have any caffeine that late and at his house. He loved his brother, he truly did, but the man had enough energy for several people even _without_ the aid of caffeination.

“Tell me you didn’t do anything too damaging,” he said in lieu of a greeting, frowning over at his brother the instant he came into view. Hashirama only stopped and waffled a bit in confusion, as if Tobirama saying something had completely thrown off his train of thought, and it wasn’t until Tobirama shooed him towards the table that he was able to break out of it enough to move.

“I didn’t do anything?” It being a question wasn’t that reassuring, but Tobirama let it slide for now, placing the gaudy floral mug he kept around just for Hashirama on the table before plopping himself down opposite him.

He’d rather hoped to have a peaceful sort of evening. It was a bit disappointing to know that it probably wasn’t going to happen now. Not that his brother’s presence wasn’t peaceful in a way, he just had a habit of unknowingly putting him on edge; something that wasn’t his fault, not even in the slightest, but it was a fact nonetheless. Tobirama pursed his lips, hoping that whatever had brought his brother there wouldn’t be too exhausting - and wouldn’t take the entire night so he could have at least a few hours to himself as well.

It was rather frustrating that Hashirama wasn’t spitting it out, though. Normally his brother would either talk in increasingly irritating circles or simply blurt out whatever was on his mind; the silence was both grating and nerve wracking in the worst of ways.

Had something happened that had tied his brother’s tongue in such a knot? Was there some pressing issue that would require his attention? From the feel of Hashirama’s chakra he’d guess not. It didn’t feel desperate, or hurt or angry, just… Nervous. Hesitant. All with the barest touch of hopeful swirling in its mix.

Tobirama slouched over the table, chin in palm, studying his brother as the man finally picked up his tea. For an open book his brother had always been somewhat difficult to read, as if his bare honesty made whatever he’d hide so obscure that no one could possibly guess what was on his mind. It was difficult to guess what one could be missing when they believed to have all the answers, after all. One of the many dangers of assumptions and pride.

“I suppose we’ll be sitting in silence for the evening?” His tone was a bit drier than necessary, making his brother blink at him for a few seconds before giving a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, I’m just…not sure how to bring this up with you.”

“Well. Words usually help in communication.” It took a slight of hand movement to hide his smirk at the pout that earned him. His brother’s reactions were usually amusing, though Tobirama had found it best to not let him know that. No reason to encourage his behavior when it often wasn’t appropriate for one of his station.

Not that Hashirama cared, really. He’d never been one to focus on politics.

“It’s not really something I’m sure you’ll be okay with.” Hashirama sighed, pushing his cup out of the way to flop his arms and head onto the table. “Mito thinks it’ll turn out alright, and I guess she’s usually right.”

“You know how I hate when you mumble.” Tobirama started to reach out and poke at his brother but hesitated, playing off the half movement as him reaching over to steal a sip of his tea. It was too sweet for his liking, the taste of honey thick on his tongue in a way that made his nose wrinkle and throat burn as it went down. “Whether or not Mito-san’s usually right, you won’t know until you spit it out.”

Hashirama blinked up at him then, his head still cushioned on his arms, some thought or another wrinkling his face up. He opened and shut his mouth a few times as if still struggling for words, though eventually he forced out a rather soft admission, his face softening along with it, “You know what? You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

The quip did little more than earn him a quick pout before Hashirama was ignoring it, moving his head to rest his chin on his arms and stare up at him. “You really are, though. Why worry over potentials?”

“Well, there’s actually plenty of circumstances where worrying over the potentials is _preferable_.”

Tobirama’s mumbling went ignored as well, Hashirama sitting up a little straighter as a rather determined look crossed his face. “Are you aware of Izuna and Madara’s relationship?”

Relationship? Tobirama moved to sit cross-legged instead of seiza, rubbing at the foot that had fallen asleep. “Are you going to tell me what I’m missing?” Of course, there _had_ to be a missing piece to such a question. Literally everyone in Konoha knew that they were brothers; asking him and expecting that as an answer was something even Hashirama wouldn’t be silly enough to do.

His brother gave him a small smile, one of his fingers scratching at a small crack in the wood of the table. “Mito didn’t know either. But they’re, well. _Closer_ than most brothers.”

That couldn’t mean what Tobirama thought it meant. Could it? His face pinched a bit in his puzzlement, fingers lacing together as he rested his chin against them. It’s true that the Uchiha were a clan focused on love, far more than most any other he’d heard of, but surely Madara and Izuna weren’t _that_ close.

Assumptions were not the wisest of things to make. He’d just told himself that. Even if logic and experience had him leaning towards one assumption over the other, he couldn’t make one here, needed the clarification.

“Be more specific, Anija. I can’t read minds.”

“You and Mito both keep not getting things.”

“You’re the common denominator there.”

Hashirama heaved a very exaggerated and put-upon sigh, somehow managing to slump even further onto the table despite already all but laying on it. “Don’t quote math at me, otouto, you know I’m no good at it.” He at least didn’t make Tobirama wait much longer through any more pouting, sitting up straighter right after that with his hands at the edge of the table. “I meant that they’re _together_. Like Mito and I, and Madara and I. They love each other deeply. Apparently it’s not that uncommon in the Uchiha clan; or, at least, when it happens it’s not frowned upon…”

That… Tobirama really didn’t have a response to that. None that he felt safe giving, none that he actually had the words for. All he could really do was stare at his older brother with his brows pinched together, his lips parted a bit in his confusion.

Why was he bringing this up to him? Did it have a purpose? One potential was of course niggling at the edges of his mind but he quickly pushed it away before it could surface any further. Hashirama did not know. There was no way he could know, so he’d have no reason to bring anything of the sort up with him for it.

Not saying anything at all probably didn’t look good. Tobirama cleared his throat, looking at the grain of the table instead of his brother, trying to form some coherent thoughts on the matter even as he spoke. “That is quite the interesting social difference. Not many clans would find such a…relationship acceptable. Though, I suppose, the Uchiha have always been first and foremost a clan of love. Would make sense that their views on such matters would differ.”

“Does it bother you?”

Tobirama did not look up at the blurted question. His fingers found a groove in the wood of his table, rubbing against the rough edges of it, eyes unfocused as he stared. “It is not my place to have an opinion on it, Anija.”

“But you have one anyway.”

His fingers worried over the groove some more, tone and words careful as he tried to talk himself around this. “Whether or not I have one is irrelevant. I have no personal dealings with Izuna. Or…Madara.” Tobirama forced himself to take a deeper breath, blinking to try and focus his vision on the table before him. “If you are fine with his relationship with his brother, then I see no reason to speak on it myself. You are the only one here who would be affected by it.”

“It could.”

“Hypotheticals in this case are pointless, Anija.” It came out a bit harsher than he meant for it to, his finger digging into the split in the wood and pinching his skin. “_Anything_ has the potential to affect someone, no matter how inane or obscure it might seem. So yes, this could in theory affect me in some fashion at some point, but unless you get to your _own_ point I’m not going to have any clue as to why you’re bringing this up in the first place.”

“Because I… It’s…”

Tobirama finally looked up from the table. His brother had sat up straight - as straight as Hashirama ever sat up - his hands busy as he picked at the loose skin around his fingernails. A habit that was bad for him, that usually got him lectured by either Mito or Tobirama or both, but at the moment Tobirama was far too focused on the odd expression his brother’s face had pinched into.

What had Hashirama so _torn_? So uncertain in such a manner? The niggling thought tried to worm its way back to the forefront of his mind, Tobirama firmly pushing it aside once more. He’d been so careful. Careful to the point that even he himself had never really admitted such thoughts or emotions. Even if his brother had known him for decades, he couldn’t read his mind, let alone read whatever he himself refused to think.

“…it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

‘Beautiful’? Considering Hashirama’s questions, that remark wasn’t exactly what Tobirama had expected. All he could do for a few moments was stare at him, hardly able to even believe he’d heard the comment let alone process it.

“I…I’m not sure I follow, Anija.”

“Their love. It’s beautiful…right?” His brother picked at his skin some more, having to stop with a wince whenever he made himself bleed. Before he continued, he took a second to stick his finger in his mouth, very much resembling more of a child than the single most powerful shinobi in their country. “I mean, all love is beautiful, but it’s- well, not many would be brave enough to commit themselves to someone like that. Knowing many would hate them for it, might sneer or even threaten them just for cherishing someone in such a fashion. So it’s just, it’s beautiful. That they wouldn’t care, or _would_ but would love each other enough to face it anyway.”

Tobirama chewed on his lower lip, eyes cutting away to stare at a stack of research papers he’d left on his counter the week before. It was a unique way of looking at it. From the viewpoint of Madara and Izuna being potentially oppressed for their relationship, as victims of a system that would rather smother and snuff out such feelings instead of letting them flourish - as if the proper response would be to _allow_ them to flourish.

But that had always been Hashirama’s way. To see the world from a side that most wouldn’t consider an option, to want to watch things grow as if all the world was natural and deserved to be nurtured.

‘All love is beautiful’. If Tobirama was to believe anyone fully and truly meant that, it would be his brother. He had more love to share than anyone else he’d ever known, no matter how cheesy that might sound even in his head.

But Hashirama wasn’t just saying all of this just to say it. Tobirama looked back at him, finding his brother watching, waiting. Still wanting his answer from his question before.

How did Tobirama feel about it? About Madara and Izuna being in love, them so forcefully defying social norms and diving so deep into taboo that so few had ever thought of the possibility. He let his lower lip go, thankfully before he tasted bitter blood, wetting his lips before he spoke.

“It’s… I certainly admire their bravery. Even just to admit it to a few.” That thought made him cock his head, Tobirama speaking his next words more carefully. “Are you sure it’s alright to speak with me on this? I’m not as close as you are to the two.”

If Hashirama’s drop to the table was anything to go by, it hadn’t been discussed. A bit of the serious atmosphere was at least cut away by the dramatic droop, Tobirama feeling a vein in his head pulsing at his own brother’s idiocy.

“You can’t just share that sort of information without speaking on it! What were you _thinking_?”

“I wasn’t! I just- it’s the only way I could think of to bring it up with you, and I forgot to talk to Madara about it! And Mito was so certain everything would be okay, and I didn’t want to wait any longer-”

Tobirama let him bumble for a while, too busy trying to fight back a coming headache over the mess to stop him. Really, for someone so invested in socializing, someone who spent so much of their time involved with people and often got on to _him_ for not knowing how to interact with others, sometimes his brother was an outright _idiot_ when it came to his relationships. This would have to take the cake, though. Just spewing Madara and Izuna’s relationship out to someone could have had dire consequences if it had been anyone else. Not to mention the trust one has to keep in a relationship such as Hashirama’s.

He was going to have to lecture him. Not even his fumbling over the mistake would spare him that. One wrapped up in so many different peoples’ lives couldn’t be so careless with how he spoke on them. But just as Tobirama was about to do just that, his mind revisited his brother’s first statements, lecture paused just as he raised a finger to shake it at his older brother.

The way Hashirama had spoken, it sounded like the two brothers being romantic with each other was not the purpose of him being there. ‘It’s the only I could think of to bring it up with you’ - if Tobirama was correct, and he prided himself on being correct most of the time, that sounded like bringing up the relationship was more of a gateway into speaking on something else. But what on earth could that discussion lead into?

“Anija,” Tobirama stopped whatever ranting his brother was still on, dropping and tapping his pointing finger on the table between them. “If there is a point to all of this, get to it.”

Perhaps a bit harshly put, but his brother aught to know him by now. If his bluntness caused offense then it would be forgiven easily enough.

His brother at least managed to snap his mouth shut for a few moments, clearly having gotten away with himself. As if the interruption gave him permission to he took those few seconds to just breathe, running his hand over his scalp and tugging at the roots of his hair to ground himself. The nerves were getting to Tobirama just from watching his brother struggle, his own shoulders tensing over the course of his visit.

The conversation they were having just a minute ago was too personal, too close to a home Tobirama didn’t want to admit to. Refused to admit to, even to himself in the silence of night. A truth that whispered to him still despite his best efforts, one that he’d hoped to bury so far beneath him with denial that it would never surface.

“I want that.”

If tension had taken his body before, it was nothing like that moment. Red eyes unblinking as they stared at the man who had uttered that single phrase, joints locked, lungs refusing to fill back up with air. He waited for Hashirama to clarify - because that couldn’t mean what he’d heard, no matter how logical the conclusion was, because logic itself said Hashirama would _never say that_, and because in that moment Tobirama could do nothing else but _wait_.

Hashirama did go on, but he took his time. Picking at the skin around his nails some more, refusing to look up from where it was his turn to stare at the table, obvious nerves making him emotional in that quiet way that always meant it was genuine.

“I want that.” This time it was set with more conviction, firmer despite the nervous shake of his words. “What they have with each other. The closeness, the understanding that few others could share. It’s probably selfish to want it, but I do.”

Tobirama managed to breathe just enough to respond, his own voice quieter than he would’ve liked it to be. “That’s something you build with others. You’ll have it.”

“I didn’t mean like- of course I’ll be close to others.” His voice took a softer tone, his eyes still set on the wood, hands busy picking at stray bits of dirt under his fingernails now. “But I didn’t mean just with anyone. I meant like…what they have. Specifically.”

How was he supposed to respond to that? Tobirama didn’t even know how to feel. Didn’t know if he wanted Hashirama to mean what he thought he did or not. But this time his brother didn’t give him a chance to respond anyway, shoving on and bulling through a rushed explanation that left Tobirama’s stomach doing odd movements the more he went on.

“It’s not that I want it _because_ we’re brothers, it’s not like that! Just that I want to be close to _you_ in that way, and you happen to be my brother - and it just makes it all the more beautiful to me because you are. Mito and Madara, I love the both of them dearly, but just like it’s different between the two of them it would be different with you. A closeness I wouldn’t be able to get with either of them or anyone else…you know?”

Only at the end did Hashirama dare to glance up at him. There was a nervous sort of fear in him seen so clearly, an understanding that what he was asking could easily lose him much.

Tobirama couldn’t respond. Not at first, not right away. There were many times in his life he’d heard or seen things that took time to process (even one such as he, whose reflexes and ability to leave the processing for later in favor of action, still could be taken off guard enough to be frozen in such a fashion) but this was easily the most shocking, the most difficult to wrap his mind around.

He wasn’t disgusted. Not like Hashirama had assumed he might be, given his question from earlier. Surprising considering how disgusted he’d felt with himself throughout the years for feeling anything beyond brotherly towards the other. He fidgeted in place, unable to look away from his brother, finding himself entirely lost on words while he floundered in his own way.

Fighting passed that block was difficult. He managed though, his breaths shaking as he breathed in, eyes blinking faster than normal as he tried to not do anything unsightly. “You want to…be like that? Like them, with me?”

“Yes.” Honest to a fault as always. Unashamed of the confession he’d spewed out over the now cold tea. But unashamed did not necessarily mean confident, and Hashirama hesitated still, his gaze finally cutting away as the nerves got the best of him. “Do you hate me for it?”

“Hate you for it?” Tobirama was shaking his head even as the first word left him, frowning at the thought as his mind was still trying to process all he’d heard. “No, I don’t hate you. There’s no reason to, not like you could help what you feel.”

A bit hypocritical, considering how he’d thought of himself for so long, but it felt like the truth. That there was no reason to hate or dislike or shame Hashirama for what he felt, no matter how socially unacceptable it was. And it at least let the other man relax a touch, his shoulder’s slouching with the relief he exhaled in a deep breath.

“Thank you, otouto.” He finally stopped fiddling with his hands, one coming up to brush the hair out of his face, some color tinting his cheeks as he continued. “I know there’s little chance of it, but I hope you don’t mind me asking…is there a chance? If not I understand - I mean, being okay with it and being _okay_ with it aren’t the same thing…”

His heart ached. Tobirama found it suddenly very difficult to breathe, faced with something he’d never thought he’d be offered. A chance, the ability to admit it to both himself and his brother something that he’d been hiding since before Konoha had even started to grow.

Hashirama was absolutely right. Being okay with his brother having feelings for him and being _with_ his brother were two different things. Even with his shared feelings it was a step that was terrifying in nature, one that would bring on the sort of change he could only hope would be good.

Along with all the other fears that came with relationships came the knowledge that, if this went poorly, Tobirama could lose his last family member. The one person who’d been at his side for decades now, who knew him better than any other ever had or ever could again.

Was it worth the chance? Could he risk that? Hashirama had braved it, decided the potential reward was worth whatever bad might come of it - but his brother was impulsive at the worst of times, especially when it came to his emotions. Not always the best example to follow, no matter if he wanted to or not.

But…he did want to. And maybe, for once in his life, that could be enough.

Hashirama was back to picking at his fingers, his hands shaking, eyes blinking faster as precious seconds passed with no answer.

Such a simple movement, reaching out, laying a hand over those that were fidgeting before him - it felt nothing of simple. But it made Hashirama look at him, those warm hands holding still under his touch.

“Yes.” His next breath shook, eyes focusing on their hands resting together on the table. “I’m okay with it. And I’m _okay_ with it. Though it’s really not up to just us.”

Feeling those warm hands take his own had his heart racing even faster, and it was all Tobirama could do to act calm when Hashirama gave him a soft smile that was so quiet and _relieved_.

“You’re right. It’s not.” The pad of Hashirama’s thumb soothed over Tobirama’s own fingers, gentle as if they’d never held hands before. “But I think you’ll find the others welcoming.”

And it was just like Tobirama to believe his brother, no matter how terrifying the prospect of trying might be.


	8. Chapter 8

Over the months after, Tobirama found himself settling into his new life quite nicely. Despite his brother’s rather big eyes about it he did not move into the main house, preferring to keep his own living arrangements whilst spending much of his free time (barring that spent on personal research and projects, extra time training his students and the rest of the Senju little ones, that spent fixing up the messes in the tower, and such things that had always occupied his time) getting to know his brother in a fashion he’d never imagined he’d have the right to.

Madara’s presence, as well, became a constant in his life. It took little over a few weeks to figure out the Uchiha head’s _intentions_ with him, and less than a minute of explaining to Hashirama what was going on before the man was a blubbering mess in Tobirama’s lap about it. Apparently he found the idea of his best friend and little brother becoming romantically involved (for Tobirama had no intentions of bedding anyone without romantic interest) rather overwhelming and something to be overjoyed about, which at least saved them all the headache of figuring out what to do with unresolved tension between them.

The hardest part to figure out, and the most rewarding when he did, was how to have so many different people in his life in such a fashion without it becoming overbearing. But Tobirama found simply spending one-on-one time with each of them was the answer, exploring their dynamics at his own pace, taking time to learn how each of them worked together separately to create the larger whole that was their odd and growing family.

Getting to know Madara, he found, was a lot calmer of a venture than he’d originally thought.

Madara had a habit of wandering the forests that encompassed one half of the outer edges of the village, that crept out of the actual limits of the village itself. His chakra could be felt burning there in a dulled fashion; not dulled in a subdued way, simply crackling like warm embers, content and yet not overflowing as they might with fuel. It was there that Tobirama met him months into their budding relationship, waiting along a path that was trodden by animals more than humans, watching as the Uchiha took his time approaching.

“You came here early.”

At his statement Madara grunted, though he offered no explanation to his early adventure into the woods. Instead, he motion for Tobirama to follow him - an invitation more than an order, and Madara meandered off in a direction that only he knew the purpose of without really waiting for Tobirama’s answer.

The unmarked path they took wound its way into the deeper parts of the woods, where the trees and bushes grew larger than they should have. It wasn’t difficult for Tobirama to figure out the source of their strange growth, of course; his brother’s chakra weaved itself through the trees and the rest of the flora, the flowers and berry bushes and oaks and pines practically dripping his signature. Hashirama’s handiwork. Later, he’d have to fully study whatever his brother had been doing here, but for the moment he let Madara take the lead and set their unhurried pace, his curiosities for the environment around them put aside for the ones involving the change in habit he’d pointed out earlier.

Not that it was that concerning, Madara heading off to the woods a bit early for one afternoon. Tobirama was simply a man of habit and recognized another one when he met them; he knew something had to have caused it, had to have been on the Uchiha’s mind in order to bring him here during the time he’d usually be stopping by his favorite tea shop.

He didn’t bring it back up for a time. Letting Madara decide when to speak was often the best choice whenever it involved anything that was bothering him, though if his chakra was anything to go by he wasn’t truly _bothered_. He led them towards a brook at an unhurried pace, pausing by a tree near its edge, settling against the bark with his eyes closed as if he had no reason to mistrust the company he had.

It warmed Tobirama in so many ways to know he held that trust.

Quiet had been a thing he’d used to think would be a rarity in Madara’s presence. There was a time he’d thought the silence might actively irritate the man with how often he filled it with screeching at Hashirama or loudly complaining about this or that issue that had come to his attention. It had been a blessing to discover that the man truly did enjoy the peace that quiet brought - perhaps he’d only ever been loud because that’s what the people around him had required. If it was the case, Tobirama was more than happy to be the person he could seek out when wanting less noise, content in the moment to sit at the brook’s edge to dip his toes in and feel the cool water between them.

Content for a time, at least. Eventually he found he couldn’t sit still, his eyes cutting to his companion more and more frequently, toes digging into the small pebbles that made up the bottom of the brook. What had caused Madara to come out here so early? Perhaps it would have been creepy to a civilian, but Tobirama had been keeping tabs on the man ever since the village was formed (for a variety of different reasons over the years, of course: mistrust, then habit, then out of curiosity, then simply because he found the man’s chakra far too drawing to ignore wherever it went). Ever since the Uchiha had discovered the tea shop he’d stopped by there during his workday break. The only thing that usually stopped him was an oddly scheduled meeting. So why today, of all days, would he break that?

“Your staring is distracting, you know.”

Tobirama could feel his face burning all the way up to his ears. He jerked his head back to stare at the water, trying to not hear the snickering that was directed at his embarrassment. Which was quite difficult considering Madara decided to join him, settling down at his side and giving his shoulder a bump with his own.

“Are you going to tell me why you were admiring me, or are you just going to leave it a mystery?”

“Don’t be full of yourself,” Tobirama mumbled under his breath, wrinkling his nose and pretending like he’d never done such a thing in his life. “I wasn’t _admiring_ you, I was…thinking.”

“Thinking while staring intensely in my direction.”

He ignored that comment, giving a bit of a small frown while he glanced over at Madara. “You don’t usually come out here this early.”

When Madara’s head tilted in response to that his hair fell away from his face and shoulder, rustling against the weeds growing around him. It was a misleading mass of a mane; no matter how Tobirama looked at it, it looked like something one’s hand would get bitten off in. Thick and unruly and more windswept than the plains of Kaze no Kuni even on the best of days. It had been a pleasant surprise to find it far softer than he’d ever imagined, and he clenched his fingers in the grass to keep from reaching out and running them through it then.

Later, perhaps. The man did love when others groomed it for him. It would be the perfect sort of excuse to lose himself in how it ran like water through his fingers.

“Rather fixated on that point, aren’t you?”

Tobirama gave a light shrug to that, leaning back as Madara had after he’d settled down, letting his head fall back to stare up at the few scattered clouds he could make out between the branches of the oaks and pines above. “It’s unusual.”

“Not that unusual.”

“You have a schedule - and don’t bother denying it.”

Madara rather notably shut his mouth then, scowling over at Tobirama instead of refuting it as he’d been about to do. “Fine. It’s ‘unusual’.”

“So what happened?” Tobirama glanced over at him, his lips pursing to the side as he thought on it. “Is there something on your mind? There was a meeting for the police force project this morning but no one else seemed to be bothered after it. Was it one of the Uchiha elders again, then? Or did Hashirama finally put his foot down and force the issue on community gardens?”

Madara didn’t respond for a minute. All he did while Tobirama shot out his questions was raise his eyebrows higher and higher, until they were near indistinguishable from his hairline.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.” It was hard to tell if that was meant as a good or bad thing; Tobirama just shrugged, waiting pointedly for Madara to answer him. Which he eventually did, his lips quirking in a smirk as his eyes lit up with humor. “Afraid it’s nothing that convoluted, love. Tea shop’s closed for the day.”

“Oh.” If asked, Tobirama really wouldn’t have been able to say what made his face turn redder: the fact that he’d clearly gone off on a tangent over nothing, or the endearment he’d never heard Madara direct towards him before.

Being embarrassed was tantamount to a death sentence around the other man. Madara spared no time in scooting closer, his teeth showing in a merciless smirk as he narrowed in on his prey. “Why, you sounded so _worried_, Tobirama. Has that been bothering you all this time?”

“Shut up.”

Leaning away didn’t help when Madara just followed him, his arm winding around him until he could tug him closer by his waist. “How sweet of you, thinking of me. Getting all worked up over it.”

“I wasn’t _worked up_ \- I was just curious.”

“That’s does sound plausibly like you,” Madara admitted, though only a fool would believe he was truly done. At least he softened his teasing by pulling Tobirama against his chest, resting his cheek against the top of his head as he wrapped him up tighter in his arms. “Curiosity is your greatest weakness. But I’m sure if it was merely curiosity you would’ve found another path to the answer, yes? One that didn’t involve keeping it all in until you could ask me - like, say, talking to your brother, or a different project member.”

“Considering I was curious about _you_, I doubt they could have answered anything anyway.” The bastard really didn’t deserve any returned affection but Tobirama still ran his hands over the forearms at his waist, letting Madara support his weight as he fully leaned back into him. “How were they supposed to inform me on why your afternoon ritual had changed? Would they even know you’re such a creature of habit?”

“Probably not. Most aren’t as observant as you.” Madara poked at his side which earned his arm a light swat, though it didn’t stop him from continuing. “Which just shows that you _care_.”

“I have never - nor will I _ever_ \- waste my time caring about you.”

Lies they both knew the truth behind. Madara just chuckled and Tobirama did his best not to pout, the quiet eventually taking back over as they rested there by the brook - content enough to relax the afternoon away in the other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I have never - nor will I _ever_ \- waste my time caring about you.”  
Tobirama said, caringly, as he cared deeply.


	9. Chapter 9

“If you do not sit still, I’ll make you sit elsewhere.”

Hashirama gave his wife a sheepish grin, forcing his bouncing legs to still as he’d been told. Considering her tone and the way her left eyebrow arched when she said it, it wasn’t an empty threat, and though he was looking forward to spending the evening with another loved one he hardly wanted to be kicked away from his beloved wife’s side while waiting for them.

But of course he could only hold himself still for so long. Within a few minutes the anticipation had him fidgety again and Hashirama found himself seated in a floor cushion not much later, pouting back at the sofa he’d been banished from where his wife was curled up with her book.

At least Madara didn’t keep him waiting much longer than that. The moment he felt the man near Hashirama was on his feet, a grin already splitting his face even before he threw the door open to greet him.

“Dara, you’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you idiot!” Madara’s struggling didn’t feel even the slightest bit legitimate as Hashirama wrapped him right up, squeezing him as hard as he could without harming him. Really, he couldn’t help himself. It had been almost a full day since he’d seen him, and at this point they both knew full well that Madara could and would escape his grasp if he honestly didn’t want to be hugged.

Which did happen eventually. Hashirama made sure to turn an extra large pout at Madara when he wrestled himself away, even though the man quickly pushed passed him and ignored it in favor of entering the home. Such cruelty.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

Hashirama perked up as he followed Madara into the house, all the way to the kitchen where he started to rummage through the cabinets. “Oh, I haven’t, have I?” Ignoring Madara’s grumbling about _no, he hadn__’t, why else would he have brought it up,_ Hashirama settled himself on the countertop (after peeking around the corner to make sure Mito wasn’t looking) to kick his feet as he talked. “I found a nice clearing out a few miles away from the village. Thought maybe we could go spar there.”

“We spar all the time.”

Hashirama poked at Madara’s rather stuffed cheek, squeaking a bit when it was almost bitten off for it. “Well, yeah, but there’s no one else around out there. There was a _massive_ fire out that way and not even much of the wildlife has come back yet!”

“Oh?” After finally swallowing the mouthful of snacks he’d stolen Madara shut the cabinets, turning towards Hashirama with a mischievous glint in his eye. “It has been quite a while since I had any sort of serious dance with someone.”

Just the reaction Hashirama had been expecting – and hoping for. He felt giddy just knowing he’d thought of the right way for them to spend their date evening, and could hardly contain his bubbly energy even after they left the house (with Hashirama giving a nice smooch to his wife’s cheek as he said goodbye) and made their way east towards the clearing he’d found just a few days before.

It was just like Madara to have come prepared for a spar even without being told that’s what they’d be doing. With the help of Tobirama and Mito even mid-level fuinjutsu was being taught to most of the village, and Madara had readily taken up the chance to learn of storage seals - something that had made much of their lives easier - and had taken to storing his weapons and some spare armor on him at all times. Though he didn’t bother with the latter, bringing out his gunbai and scythe with no small amount of glee as they both took some time to stretch and warm up first.

When Madara asked what the rules should be for their spar Hashirama waved the question off, stretching his arms up over his head before letting them drop back to his side. “You decide. As long as we’re back before dinner, I’m not too picky.”

“No holds then.” Madara paused as he stretched out into a squat, his head tilting a bit as he reconsidered that. “Besides aiming. Guess we shouldn’t actually go for kill shots, so no vitals.”

With the rules settled, and both of them properly warmed up, it was only a few seconds later before their swords were clashing.

Fighting Madara had always been exhilarating. Even during the years that Hashirama had longed to be doing anything but fighting the man it still had been an experience like no other. Meeting such a force head on, one that admittedly did not match his own but came so much closer than any other had before. Seeing the fire that lit Madara’s movements, how open the man was when he was in battle, the confidence and power being each and every one of his swings leaving even one as strong as Hashirama questioning his own when faced with it.

This would be the first time they could truly let loose like they used to in the war. It’s why Hashirama had brought them here, after all. To let Madara have his fun, to have his own, and to throw out all the jutsu that really didn’t have much of a purpose in the times of peace they’d found themselves in. Wanton destruction had never been his way but Hashirama would have been a filthy liar if he said he hadn’t missed this: dodging a tidle wave of fire just to be met with a gunbai, creating creatures out of his mokuton to slam into the skeletal creature Madara’s eyes used to protect him, watching Madara dance in the way he’d truly been born and bred to do.

It had only been a little passed breakfast when they left, and neither of them even wanted a breath of a pause until well into the afternoon. By then they were both worked up into a sweat, though Madara’s grin had yet to lessen, the air having been filled with his laughter throughout their training session and right up until Hashirama finally pulled back and threw up the metaphorical white flag.

“Feel like that sausage from this morning isn’t agreeing with me.” He gave his head a scratch while rubbing at his stomach, the dust not yet settled between them, rocks and rubble strewn here and there from the mess they’d made of the area. Really, now that he gave it a good look, it didn’t resemble the nice clearing he’d found for them to train in. More of a dust and dirt pit now, even the trees nearby having been affected and torn up right with their roots.

Which really was a shame. Hashirama heard Madara grumbling even over the distance, the man having dropped to the ground in a sort of huff the moment he heard their training was over, but he decided not to comment on it. Instead he bent low to the ground, taking a second to let the dust settle a bit more before placing a single palm down flat on the warm earth.

It breathed underneath him. Tobirama would point out that, technically speaking, it _didn__’t_, but it’s the only way Hashirama could describe it. The way it seemed to pulse, the way everything was interconnected, almost like a giant chakra network that everything, living or not, was a part of. He felt it beneath him, focused on it, breathing in sync with the rhythm as he did.

There was no purpose behind him doing it. None beyond wanting to. Wanting to focus on the feeling of belonging to a greater whole, to the vast world that held so many great and wondrous people and places that so many of which he’d never know. It filled him with a sense of purpose and tranquility, letting him settle more easily into the mindset required to perform the mokuton.

Leaving this area ruined by their fun would have been a cruelty. Perhaps he couldn’t fix it up like it once had been, before whatever fire had taken it, but the least he could do was make it inhabitable for the wildlife that used to be there. It was a bit of guess work considering he hadn’t found the place until after it had been vacated from the fauna, but by the time he stood up he thought it decent enough to leave once more.

“Bit of overkill, don’t you think?”

“What?” Hashirama turned as Madara came to stand next to him, his hands now on his hips as he proudly beamed at him. Color filled his periphery from the myriad of flowers he’d helped spring up from the ground, and such a little thing as that delighted him beyond measure. “I think it’s perfect!”

“Don’t be so full of yourself.”

His pout was ignored, as usual, but he supposed a good ego check wouldn’t really hurt anyone in the long run. Describing his own handiwork as perfect probably was a bit much. So he relented with a bit of a huff, sulking as they made their way through the thick woods he’d raised up around them, eventually hopping up into the branches in order to avoid the brambles and bushes that sprawled out below.

They were a bit bigger than they probably should have been, but that tended to happen when he used his mokuton. Not that he really knew why. Maybe that was something he should bring up with Tobirama at some point.

Hashirama let Madara take the lead, though he was a bit surprised when he took a detour. A glance upwards told him they did have enough time though; even if they spent an hour or two more out here before heading back they’d still get home in plenty enough time to do a quick wash-up before dinner. Dinner that he’d heard the Akimichi matriarch was actually bringing over for them, and his rather empty stomach would never forgive him if he missed that.

Bless that woman and her tendency to share food with everyone. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes as they jumped back down to the ground, racing along the forest still as the trees sparsed out around them.

It took almost up until they reached the water for Hashirama to realize where they were going. He bounded up to run next to Madara when he did, grinning over at his friend who was far more sentimental than anyone else would ever give him credit for being - and finding his progress suddenly halted by a very stubborn tree that smacked into him.

With his arse on the ground and his nose definitely bleeding, Hashirama buried his face in his hands, hardly even hearing the bark of laughter Madara let out over the pain shooting through him.

“Don’t laugh at me!” His words sounded stuffy as he peeked up through his fingers, but Madara didn’t take any pity on him. All he did was laugh harder, poking at his forehead as if that would really help him at this rate.

“Surprised you didn’t bust right through it with that hard head of yours.”

Instead of responding, Hashirama just fixed up his nose, swatting away the finger still jabbing at him as he got back up. “Any reason you brought us here?”

“Take a guess,” Madara shrugged as his snickering petered out, walking on now that his companion was up out of the dirt.

The sound of running water greeted them, sending Hashirama right back into his childhood once the river came into view. He couldn’t help a soft smile at the sight, his eyes flickering over to Madara, though the man’s expression was mostly hidden by hair and his high collar. Not that it mattered. He could tell just from his stance that Madara was relaxed and content, no tension in his body, at the moment no negative feelings brought back from the place that started it all.

It had been a good few months since Hashirama had been here. Not much had changed, though of course the water had eroded a bit away here and there, different sorts of rocks waiting to be skipped across the water. And that’s exactly what Madara seemed to have brought them there to do. He set about finding one that suited the job best, far more picky than he’d been as a child, tossing a few out of his way before settling on one that would get the most distance.

“Did you ever visit?”

Hashirama didn’t speak up to ask until the quiet had had a time to soak in. The air around them was just too perfect to disturb, the mood just right, sun shinning above and water bubbling and the soft plunk of the occasional rock he tossed into the river while Madara skipped his own.

This was peace, to him. The only form he’d been allowed to find for years, and something he cherished even now that he had some to share with the rest of their village. But his curiosity had grown to rival Tobirama’s in many ways in the past few years, so it was inevitable for him to break it still.

At first, Madara didn’t answer him. He tossed his rock up to catch it a few times, staring off across the water, in thought or merely enjoying the quiet still. The rock cleared it straight to the other side when he finally let it loose, scattering off into the grass that waved gently in the breeze, slowing to a halt out of sight of the both of them.

He let his arm hang at his side, not turning to face Hashirama just yet. Head tilting back to stare up at the sparse clouds that had started to let loose a light sprinkle of rain, his hair falling back and away as he did.

“Once,” he admitted. “Only once physically.”

Whatever he meant by that clarification, he didn’t go on any further. Instead he turned his head to look at Hashirama, giving him a rather dull look. “Shouldn’t we be getting back now?”

“Oh, right!”

Even after they said that, they took their time heading back. Hashirama found one of his hands fitting quite snug with a gloved one, his heart racing in his chest as he followed after his childhood best friend like a lovestruck fool. Something he really found no shame in being, considering he so often found himself in that role: with Mito, with Madara, with his own little brother, and nowadays he was starting to feel that way even around the younger Uchiha brother. Really, in the grand scheme of things, Hashirama could think of a lot worse things to be when around such wonderful people.

Wonderful people that he’d be spending the rest of his life with.

“You’d better not be crying, you idiot.”

Hashirama sniffed quite loudly as he wiped at his eyes, and even though his “I’m not” wasn’t the least bit convincing Madara still let it go - and led him back home, where they could laugh and relax and cuddle the night away on his sofa (assuming Mito would be kind enough to let him back on it now).


	10. Chapter 10

“Is there a reason Hashirama’s out in the garden half naked?”

Mito didn’t even bother showing her displeasure when that was brought to her attention. Nor did she even look up from the seals she was working on, only pausing enough to turn and leave a gentle kiss on Touka’s cheek as the other woman wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

“My husband’s habits are a mystery he couldn’t explain to himself.” Her eye did not twitch at the thought. “Though I imagine it has something to do with Madara this time. Do you by chance know why their brothers have not arrived yet?”

Touka rested her chin on Mito’s hair in that way she very much didn’t care for, but much like most in Hi no Kuni she didn’t catch any of her hints to stop doing so. “They’ve still got a good hour or so, yes? Tobira’s always preferred to be punctual and not overly early.”

Cultures clashing. Nasty stuff that Mito really couldn’t do anything about. She still placed her brush down in her irritation, shifting a bit in her seat to look over her shoulder at the other woman. “Corralling has never been one of my strongest skills. I do hope to have everyone here in time for dinner.”

At least Touka got that rather blatantly obvious hint. She leaned in for a lingering kiss still, one Mito had no quarrels with melting into, appreciating her far more than she’d said out loud as of yet.

Yet another skill she’d have to work on. Such a wondrous person simply couldn’t go around without some of her praises being sung (well. Mito had never been one to sing and wouldn’t quite _sing_ praises, but the least she could do was learn to whisper them in the dark when they were alone).

Touka really didn’t get that far in her venture to corral the idiots, though. Not even out the front door. A very large and rather dirt covered Madara ended up crossing her path in the hallway, and he was soon followed by a singed Hashirama who couldn’t stop laughing no matter how hard his lover was griping at him. She just blinked as they passed her, not sure at all if she wanted to ask or know - but knowing they’d just come from the direction of Mito’s garden Touka quickly made for the back door just in case they’d done something that would cause the woman’s ire.

Which would both be terrifying and _hilarious_, and she didn’t feel even the least bit bad about thinking the latter. It was both a relief and a bit of a disappointment to find the garden rather unscathed, as well as confusing considering the state of those two idiots. All Touka could really do was shrug it off and go back inside, already hearing the bathwater running, which thankfully drowned out the idiots who were still laughing and griping at each other.

Though there were two other idiots for her to corral. Considering she barely knew the other one, Tobirama would be the easiest, and even though she knew perfectly well that he’d get there eventually she thought she might as well pay him a visit.

Another plan that was somewhat ruined. Her earlier comment about how he preferred to be punctual and not overly early was apparently going to be contradicted, because she didn’t even make it halfway to his house before she caught a glimpse of his silver hair over top a book he had his nose shoved into. It was all she could do not to smack it into his face, instead waiting to fall in step with him on the way back to the main household, nodding to a few other members of their clan as she did.

“Normal people don’t walk and read at the same time,” she reminded him with a shove with her shoulder. He almost stumbled from it, shooting her a glare when his step faltered and sent him off the pavement into the grass.

“Why do you always insist on reminding me of social norms? I don’t break them all that often.”

“Because you _do_, and someone needs to be responsible and tell you that.”

His tisking was humorous, and just earned him another bump with her shoulder before she stole his book away. It was just another one of his boring ones on fuinjutsu, so she just snapped it shut and kept it from him - with a promise that she’d return it to him _after_ it wouldn’t be a walking hazard for him.

It was much like they were still children when it was just the two of them. Falling back on their old habits, Touka poking fun at her odd younger cousin while Tobirama just pouted like the adorable idiot he was. It left her grinning while he just crossed his arms, neither of them in any hurry to get to their destination despite how most might assume Tobirama was in discomfort (Touka knew better, and knew full well he adored her right back).

The oddity over Tobirama wanting to arrive early would remain rather a mystery to her, though if he were to admit why it would have been mundane either way. After completing his pet research project earlier that day and spending several hours in a manic high to get all his findings written down, Tobirama had found himself rather mentally exhausted and unable to continue on with any more intense research. So he’d picked up one of his lighter reading materials – the higher level fuinjutsu book that Touka had so rudely snatched from him - and had begun to meander around the compound to clear his head. Running into Touka and being somewhat guided towards the main house was more of a coincidence than anything else, all things considered.

Sensing that Madara had already arrived at least made him feel a bit better about getting there so early, thought Izuna was still off doing whatever he was doing across the village from them. Touka disappeared off to fetch him after shoving Tobirama in through the front door (and asking for a general location, considering her sensing skills had never been nearly on the level of his, though Tobirama knew it was mostly laziness that had her asking for the information in the first place), so he was left with finding something to keep himself busy while his brother and Madara finished up with their bathing.

He ended up wandering towards the kitchen, feeling Mito off in the master bedroom but not willing to disturb her there. The counters had a rather lovely variety of fruits and raw vegetables that were already cut and prepared for their evening, as well as a few selections of wine that he desperately hoped his brother would not be indulging in. For whatever reason the man could hold his liquor rather well, but even a whiff of wine had him stumbling around like an idiot.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t the only person he’d met like that. Tobirama drummed his fingers absently on the table he’d set himself at, frowning over at the bottles of wine. It might honestly be worth looking into if there was something to that. Perhaps what the ingredients were influenced how drunk one would get (or how quickly) just as the alcohol content and the sugar content did. Or perhaps different bodies reacted differently depending on what was fermented to make the alcohol.

“I wasn’t expecting you so early, Tobirama-san.”

“Ah, Mito-san.” He didn’t exactly start at her words though it was a close thing. Considering how familiar he was with her chakra signature he’d felt her coming and simply not consciously deemed it worth of note - as if there was no reason in the world to be on edge or guard while around her. A silly thing, really. Mito might not be a warrior by trade but she was just as deadly as one, even dressed in the lovely silk kimono she wore then. One would be a fool to think for a moment she wouldn’t hesitate to soil it in blood if need be.

Though, Tobirama personally felt he’d not done anything to desire her ire just yet, so perhaps being comfortable in her presence wasn’t that dangerous for him.

“Your brother and Madara-san are busy at the moment. Care to keep me company?”

Why his face heated at her request was beyond him. Tobirama nodded and gestured towards the seat in front of him, though found himself subjected to a rather narrowed eyed gaze when he did. He didn’t have time to question it, however, because Mito soon swept right passed him and seated herself to his right, a fan soon whipped open so she could cool herself from the summer heat.

Small talk between them had always felt difficult in a way that Tobirama couldn’t quite place his finger on, but the best way he’d found to explain it simply went to Mito’s upbringing. She was a challenge to speak with, though not necessarily in a bad way. Searching for the true meaning being her words was simply something that had him focusing on her entirely as they spoke, the world otherwise drowned out as she had his full attention.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been chatting before he found himself being draped on by his brother, wet brown hair smooshed against his face as the man quite cheerily crushed him in a hug. Not bothering to struggle as he once would have Tobirama lifted a single hand to place on the arms crossed over his chest, relaxing back into Hashirama as Madara came into the room shortly after.

Noise soon filled the once quiet room, his brother and Madara having never been ones to remain at a decent volume around each other. Tobirama was in the middle of it all in position but chose to keep out of the conversation, much preferring to listen and lean back into his brother’s arms instead of keeping up with whatever tall tale Madara was sharing with the lot of them.

When Touka arrived with Izuna, that at least brought a distraction to split them off again. Having less people in the room made it easier to breathe, something Tobirama was extremely grateful for; he loved his brother and found much to enjoy about Madara’s company, but he had never been nor would ever be a _people person_. That many people in such a small area set his shoulders up near his earlobes, and he was glad whenever it was only him and Mito let in the kitchen once more.

“I’m not sure how you handle it, Mito-san.” At her raised eyebrow he clarified, keeping his hands in his lap to keep from scratching at the back of his head. “The both of them together for such long periods of time. Separately or even together in small doses they’re fine, but they’re _idiots_ together. It’s like extended exposure drops their IQ exponentially.”

Her laughter was unexpected. It drew a surprised laugh out of him as well, Tobirama unable to tear his eyes away from the dimples that appeared on both of her cheeks. She so rarely laughed in such a manner that he’d truly never seen them before, even her smiles often reserved or hidden behind one of the decorative fans she always carried about.

“That is quite the phenomenon, isn’t it?” Her eyes found his and were so soft when they did, his heart skipping in his chest without permission. “Even without concrete evidence I’d be inclined to believe it true. Perhaps it’s for the better that Madara-san and I will not be more than friends.”

“Perhaps.” He shifted just enough to face her, some of his fingers pinching the fabric of his pants to roll it to soothe him. “Though…I’ll admit, I’m surprised that will be the case. Assumptions are the bane of logic often times.”

With a flair of her wrist, Mito’s fan shut. She set it down on the table, using her fingers to dampen the noise - something Tobirama really wouldn’t have known she was doing if he hadn’t asked his brother about it since the last time he’d noticed. Apparently one had to be rather quiet in polite company in Uzushio, to the point where setting a tea cup down and letting it make noise was impolite.

His brother would never have lasted if he’d been the one to move to marry her. From the stories the single visit they’d taken together since the marriage had been a disaster. It was rather a good thing that Mito loved him so dearly.

“Madara-san and I are simply better as friends. Though he certainly brings joy to those he’s with in other fashions, our lives merely do not fit together in the same way.” She tilted her head to study him, the tags hanging from her carefully wrapped buns shifting with it, one brushing against her shoulder. “That is not to say there is not…room at my side. He simply fits a different role in a better manner.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Her gaze had turned intense and Tobirama found himself looking away, his own flickering about the kitchen to find something to distract himself. She was overwhelming. “Would you like some tea perhaps? I’m surprised Hashirama hasn’t made you any yet.”

“Well. He was rather busy.”

She sounded disappointed, the barest lilt to her voice giving it away. Instead of commenting on it Tobirama got up, deciding that tea probably couldn’t fix all his issues but it would at least give his hands something to do instead of sit in his lap and quiver.

“That’s not what she wanted you to say.”

At this rate, Tobirama was going to have to give up his title as the best sensor in Hi no Kuni - or as a sensor of any caliber. The fact that Izuna had popped his head into the kitchen without him knowing he was within earshot had Tobirama miffed enough to shut the tea cabinet harder than necessary, and he shot a rather nasty glare towards the shorter Uchiha brother.

“Do you need something?”

“Not at the moment, no.” His grin was unnerving, far too cheeky for Tobirama’s liking. “But _you_ obviously need something.”

“I was not aware you made a habit of eavesdropping, Izuna-san.”

He was probably the first person Tobirama had seen who didn’t flinch away from Mito’s clipped tone. Instead he just cocked his head at her, his smile faltering ever so slightly as he narrowed his eyes in that way he always did when studying someone.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make a habit of it. But, me aside,” his gaze flickered back to Tobirama, who’d abandoned his tea venture for the moment in favor of tapping his fingers on the counter, “Moon Rabbit clearly needs some help.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Because _clearly_,” Izuna continued as if he hadn’t heard Tobirama, his grin growing once more, “he can’t take the hint to fuck you already.”

If Tobirama had been holding something, he’s sure he would’ve broken it. Out of shock or anger he really wasn’t sure. If he’d been able to think past what he’d just heard, he might’ve thought it odd that Mito hadn’t hissed some sort of threat at him; she might be quite proper compared to the rest of them but even she had limits to what she’d put up with.

But she didn’t. Even when Tobirama started hissing some sort of fumbled and stuttering approximation of a threat, Mito just sat there calmly. Her chakra rather settled, her posture straight and prim, the fan that had been set on the table now back in her hand so she could gentle fan herself.

Tobirama wasn’t sure he’d ever been so horrified in his life. But it was excessively hard to articulate that, so after a few seconds of pure rage his hand went for the hidden kunai at his side, and he chucked it right at the bastard’s head.

Of course Izuna caught it. Caught it and just grinned even wider at him, entirely unphased by the assassination attempt. “What, don’t think what I said was true?”

“I’m not humoring you with considering it,” Tobirama hissed right back. He hated how his face had heated up, and hated it even more because there was nothing he could do about it.

Bickering with Izuna wasn’t exactly going to erase what he’d said but Tobirama did it anyway, shooting barbed comments at him while the idiot _teased_. It distracted him rather thoroughly from the other occupant in the room, so much so that when she finally spoke up it was enough to have any and all words die on the tip of his tongue.

“Such vulgar phrasing would never fall from my tongue, Izuna-san.” Her fan snapped shut once more, the threat therein not phasing Izuna in the slightest. “But the general meaning behind them is not exactly incorrect, even if skewed to misrepresent me. Skewed heavily.”

Izuna shrugged at the look she sent him, muttering something akin to it getting the job done, but Tobirama wasn’t paying him any attention anymore. As a matter of fact, most everything around him sounded strangely like the ringing he got in his ears after a particularly loud experiment exploded on him. With Mito’s words hanging in the air about him nothing else seemed to want to be processed, all of his mind working over her words and lost as to how she could have possibly meant them.

Well. The _meaning_ wasn’t entirely lost on him, but the fact that Mito had said it nonetheless made no sense. She couldn’t _mean_ them, and yet…and yet Mito was not the type to joke about such matters. Despite what many might think she did have a sense of humor, it just so happened that her jokes were subtle and went over most people’s heads, and _this_ sort of joke did not adhere to that in any way.

“Perhaps this would be better discussed alone?”

Tobirama nodded even though he was half aware that the statement wasn’t directed at him. When the cushion next to Mito was patted ever so gently he moved without really thinking on it, seating himself next to her while his mind was still reeling.

“Do you have a question for me?”

It was the hesitance in her tone that brought him back. Sharpened his eyes and mind once more, his thoughts brought to a purposeful halt so he could pay attention to her.

Realistically, he could come up with over a dozen different questions for her then. But he settled for one, trying not to seem too tense over the matter given how hesitant she was herself (nervous? Was Mito _nervous_? It wouldn’t honestly be the first time he’d seen her as such, but the last time had been at hers and his brother’s wedding several years before - a time before he knew her well enough to know it was her nerves showing).

“Mito-san,” he started, keeping his voice low as he spoke, “the vulgarity of Izuna’s statement aside… Your comment suggested there was some truth to it, and forgive me if I’m misinterpreting that but to joke about such matters isn’t typically like you.”

“No, it would be rather distasteful to joke about such matters.” The curl of her nose only added to her point, the susurrus of her kimono speaking to the quiet of the room as she shifted in her seat. “As such, I can assure you it was not meant as one, though I must be clear that Izuna-san’s statement misrepresents me heavily.”

“Izuna hardly ever represents the honest truth of others.” Something that was expected of one so deep in the information networks, but it was still a nuisance.

“Indeed.” Mito swiped a stray hair from her forehead, tucking it the best she could back into one of her buns. “Though at least I’m here to clarify and correct the misdirection. Mainly the implication that I’m merely desiring physical comfort from you - I assure you that is not the case.”

“The truth in his words, then?” With a deep breath Tobirama kept himself steady, not letting him get ahead of himself.

“That I do desire your company. Something I’d thought I’d made rather clear, but your culture and its lack of subtlety.” With a flick of her wrist, she showed distaste and frustration with that quite clearly. “Even Izuna’s vulgar bluntness has its uses in the failures of other methods.”

It was true that Mito had said she enjoyed his company before, but the true meaning had been entirely lost on Tobirama. Because to enjoy one’s company and to _desire it_ were two completely separate things - down to semantics, really; one could desire someone’s company in an entirely platonic sense, but Mito wouldn’t be stating it now if that were the case.

He couldn’t just keep staring at her. Not without responding. But his voice had entirely left him, words more foreign to him then than the lands beyond the ocean’s waves. With verbal communication failing him he was left with being a bit forward, and he desperately hoped Mito would forgive him for it.

When he laid a single hand over one of hers, he found it to be much colder than he’d expected. All the hands in the world that he’d held - his brother’s, Madara’s, his mother’s, his father’s when he’d been so young he could hardly remember it - had been warm, some hot to the point of discomfort. But not hers- hers were cold to the touch just like his own, long fingers filling the spaces between his own as easily as if they were made to match.

How funny that he’d found so many to do just that in one lifetime.

“Perhaps it would be best to continue this discussion with Anija? And I suppose Madara should be here as well.” Mito caught his answer in the suggestions as if it were bold black ink on plain parchment, a soft smile touching her lips as she gave a single nod in agreement. It left his heart swelling with affection - affection that he’d tried to deny for far too long, considering now that he all but knew his brother would never mind them being together.

Something that was confirmed the second he was able to look passed the woman at his side, the sight at the entrance-way making him cringe back and wish he didn’t have to find their answer so immediately. Because his brother was already in ugly tears where he stood clutching the wall he was peeking from behind, hardly able to contain himself as he watched his beloved wife and little brother confess their affections for each other.

Not even the threat of sleeping on the sofa prevented Hashirama from flinging himself at the two of them, wrapping them both up tight in his tree trunk arms to soak them through with his tears.

Tobirama’s torment was only made worse by the pair of snickering Uchiha watching them, and with Touka poking her head in to see what the ruckus was he _knew_ he’d never live it down. All of them would be using this as blackmail for the rest of his life, and considering Hashirama had him and Mito squished far too tightly against his chest there was little to no chance of either of them escaping further embarrassment.

It was something he’d probably have to get used to. Considering he was stuck with the lot of them, in bed with half and in some fashion related to the rest. It was a life he’d mostly chosen for himself, cons included, and somewhere underneath his griping and squirming to get out of his brother’s vice grip of a grasp he knew that.

Tobirama had chosen his family, and in turn they’d all chosen him. And if being a part of something so beautiful meant dealing with the sobbing mess that was his brother, well. He’d dealt with a lot worse on his own for so many years.


End file.
